Fire and Ice
by Yesac
Summary: Anakin wins the duel on Mustafar, but doesn't kill Obi-Wan. Along with Padme, Obi-Wan finds himself living in a chaotic world where the man he thought he knew has become the thing he swore to destroy. Can Anakin be turned back? If so, what then?
1. Part 1: Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything. George Lucas still has that particular privilege.

**Author's Note:** Hi, everyone! This is my first attempt at a multi-chapter story, and I'd appreciate all the feedback that I can get. All mistakes (grammar, plot, etc.) are my own, so if you notice anything, I'd be grateful if you'd point it out. Thank you!

* * *

It's morning. The rays of the sun are just barely beginning to sneak through the blinders to spill onto the bed in a warm golden glow that's slowly creeping in to light the room. Under the covers, where skin meets soft sheets, it's pleasantly warm and cozy—the same feeling permeates the room itself, aided by the favorable temperature that it has been warmed to by the first vestiges of sunlight. Even the air smells of sunlight, if that even truly has a smell. Freshness, perhaps... at the very least, it has the sense of a lazy, relaxed morning. The situation_ should_ be comforting. Perhaps it would be, if it didn't signal the start to another day.

The seventh day since the world fell apart.

Obi-Wan doubts that it will ever again be _just_ another day.

As much as he wishes otherwise, the morning sun has woken him, and he knows that he should get up. Avoidance has never accomplished anything. Best not to save for later what he can do now. Qui-Gon might have told him that once, though he can't remember if it's a saying his master made up or if it's some wise adage by someone like Yoda. It hardly matters anymore, now that it's nothing more than a principle of an extinct Order.

It's been seven days since the Jedi Order was destroyed. There should be an impossibility in that statement, but the situation—the very room that he's in—proves that it _is_ true.

"Time to get up, Obi-Wan."

He works not to wince. If the room he's in isn't proof enough of his failings, that voice certainly is.

"Come on now, I need to change your bandages."

There's no point in ignoring the command—it's not as if he's in any position to fight, injured as he is. Even if he weren't hurt, his lightsaber has been taken away and, worse, he's been cut off from the Force.

The thought alone makes him shudder. Without the Force, he feels as bereft as a man who has lost a limb. Anakin could attest to that, but at least he'd had a prosthetic. Obi-Wan is hardly as lucky—there is no prosthetic for the Force. It's something he's had since birth, and without it the world seems to have suddenly gone quiet, irrevocably and eerily so. The feeling is maddening. This _entire situation_ is maddening, more so because of his inability to do anything but what he knows will eventually have to happen anyway.

Giving into that inevitability, Obi-Wan rolls over and faces the owner of the voice.

Anakin favors him with a soft smile. "Good morning." His voice is a pleasant rumble, indicating that he's genuinely pleased to see Obi-Wan awake. "How's it feeling?"

By "it" Anakin means the large lightsaber burn on Obi-Wan's right shoulder and down his side. The wound is a deep, deep slice, the initial blow having burned down to the bone. It's serious enough that even bacta patches aren't enough to quickly heal it, and while Anakin has given him the option of submersion in a bacta tank, Obi-Wan doesn't relish the idea of being unconscious when the galaxy is in this state. He'll take the pain and the slower recovery.

"Better."

"Don't lie to me." Annoyance sparks in Anakin's voice, but it seems to fade away just as quickly as it came on. "Really, Master, if it hurts, don't tell me it doesn't. I'm trying to make it better."

Which is ironic, considering Anakin is the one who gave him the wound in the first place.

"Roll over so that I can look at it."

He complies with the order, sliding over onto his stomach as Anakin peels the covers back. The rush of cooler air leaves him shivering for a moment, the warmth of sunlight and the relative peace of an uninterrupted doze quickly becoming little more than a pleasant memory.

A soft sigh of almost-concern escapes from Anakin's mouth as he pulls back the bandages. "It's a little red, but it seems to be healing nicely."

"Good to know." The flat sarcasm of his tone goes unmentioned, though he can't imagine that Anakin didn't catch it.

"Padme is already up. She'd like to see you, I'm sure. There are guests coming later today, too. She would probably appreciate your company while she's setting up."

"Guests?"

"Bail Organa and his wife."

Only years of Jedi training allow Obi-Wan to clamp down on his shock. It's crucial that he do so, of course—Anakin can feel his emotions through the Force—but the idea of Bail coming _here_ so soon after everything that's happened... Well, Bail is either very brave or has absolutely no regard for the value of his own life.

Obi-Wan is rather inclined to hope it's the former.

"What for?"

"He's an important political figure. He's also sworn allegiance to the Empire—he's willing to help work to make this a smooth transition. I'd say it's likely that he'll be given some sort of office by the Emperor."

"And will you kill him the first time that he disappoints you?"

A stupid comment, yes, but it slips from his lips far more naturally than he's comfortable with. He'll have to think on that later. However, right now there is little time to think—not in the face of what he expects to be a violent reaction.

Anakin surprises him. Instead of pain, all Obi-Wan gets is a nasty little half-smile, so acidic that he just barely stops himself from visibly recoiling. "I haven't killed _you_ yet, have I, Master?" he asks, his voice a deliberate parody of innocence, as if he has no idea just how biting his words really are.

But he knows. Oh, he _knows_.

"All but, Anakin."

This time, he's not disappointed: Anakin goes for his throat. He doesn't use his hands, but that's not out of mercy—he simply doesn't need to. The Force is enough. Just the tightening of his hand in the air—a gesture that would look absurd if there weren't so much power behind it—and an invisible presence tightens around Obi-Wan's neck, leaving him to struggle for air. He can't breathe, can't even get enough air to croak out any sort of message that could ease Anakin's aggression.

Instead, he looks up into Anakin's eyes, straight into his gaze. He hasn't seen anything familiar there in the past days, but he's still not willing to believe that there's nothing left for him to connect with. But instead of the familiar blue which always reminded him of the skies over Coruscant when they were clear, he's faced with that same blue run through with yellow and red, like the cracks left behind after an earthquake.

How startlingly appropriate.

"I was generous, Obi-Wan. You _should_ be dead. I had to end that duel, and we both know that you _gave_ me the opportunity to kill you."

_"It's over, Anakin! I have the high ground."_

_A pair of harsh eyes and a familiar face twisted by something horribly dark stares back at him. "You underestimate my power." Even the voice sounds wrong—it's too tight, too harsh and raw._

_"Don't try it!"_

_Anakin has never listened—Obi-Wan doesn't really think he will now, but he still has to _try_. It's—he owes it to everything he loves in Anakin. He just—he can't let this happen without _some _sort of indication that this isn't what he wants—that he cares more for Anakin than a common enemy._

Don't go through with it_, Obi-Wan mentally pleads again, but Anakin is—he_ is_. He's always done what he wants, and now isn't going to be any different, but it's not enough. The jump isn't high enough, and he's left himself open. A brief second of decision, of assured victory. Then, nothing._

_Obi-Wan realizes that he never took the swing._

_He's rewarded for his mercy with a searing pain across his shoulder and side. It's like fire—Mustafar coming alive and melding with his back, twisting and burning him until he can hardly think. Pain—so much, and it hurts, like nothing Obi-Wan has ever felt. Or maybe that's his heart, because he's never felt betrayal like this before, and that_—that_ is more painful than anything Anakin can physically do to him_.

_As soon as his body hits the black sands of Mustafar, he knows it's over. Anakin has won. This is his end._

_"You let me win."_

_Maybe, yes—yes, he did. It doesn't make any sense. Nothing does anymore, but Obi-Wan is in too much pain to think—to even contemplate an answer for Anakin._

_There's the sound of crunching gravel, and then Anakin at his side. Obi-Wan's cheek is pressed to the dirt as he groans in pain, but he's still never been more aware of Anakin's presence. Impending death seems to have heightened his senses._

_"I made a mistake, and I know you could have killed me. But you couldn't do it, could you?" he murmurs, sounding almost pleased. "You couldn't kill me."_

_"I—Oh, Force," he gasps. It hurts so much._

_"You didn't do your duty to the Jedi, Obi-Wan." Anakin's voice is closer now, nearer to his ear. A soft touch brushes his hair. "I know you think I'm evil, but you still couldn't end my life."_

_He doesn't know why Anakin insists on repeating it. Is it to torment him further before he finally makes his kill? Obi-Wan knows he's failed, feels it with every searing pain that rips through him and steals his breath. He doesn't need Anakin to remind him._

_A tiny laugh, like the tinkling of broken glass, reaches his ears. For a few moments, he doesn't realize that it's Anakin laughing softly. Maybe now he's finally going to end this. It's not as awful a prospect as it might once have been. At least all of the pain he's feeling—both in his body and in his heart—will stop._

_Except, Anakin doesn't kill him._

_Instead, he gently uses the Force to pick him up._

_The pressure makes the wound pull, stretching and ripping it further that it already was. It's agony—it burns, it hurts, it hurts, and he wishes Anakin would just kill him, not play like this, and..._

_"Shhh," Anakin murmurs, right before he sends a soothing wave of the Force to smooth over Obi-Wan, brushing gently against his tortured skin, easing the pain enough to let him breathe again. The feeling of just being able to inhale is wonderful, and for a few moments it's possible to forget everything that's happened._

_The feeling doesn't last long._

_Anakin's grip tightens as he tries to ease some pressure off the wound. "Go to sleep, Master. You won't want to be awake when I have to clean that cut."_

_Another brush of the Force—more insistent this time—and Obi-Wan has no choice but to comply. He can feel himself relaxing, sinking down into Anakin's hold, even though he knows that recent events have warped it into one of the most dangerous places in the galaxy to be. He should stay awake, should try to..._

_Slowly, his eyes flutter shut._

_Darkness takes over._

Anakin had saved him, yes, Obi-Wan admits as he continues to struggle for breath. He saved him on the sands of Mustafar, in a fiery inferno of a world, but the fate he'd given instead was hardly better. Death would be preferable to seeing everything Obi-Wan loves come crumbing down around him while he remains powerless to do anything to stop it.

Death would be better than being unable to touch the Force—and he's not sure if he'll ever be able to touch the Force again. Anakin has put an inhibiting implant in him in some unspecified location, and he's not about to start randomly cutting at himself.

"You didn't deliver that killing blow," Anakin says slowly, as if he's remembering all over again. The red and yellow that had seeped into his eyes at the onset of his anger begins to recede, leaving blue in its wake. It reminds Obi-Wan of the time he saw the clouds of a polluted world part just long enough for him to witness the reality of the sky that they were hiding. "Why didn't you, Obi-Wan?"

It's the first time that he's asked why. Obi-Wan would have thought it would have occurred to him to ask sooner, but logic has never really been one of Anakin's strong points, at least not when emotion is involved.

The invisible grip eases from around Obi-Wan's neck, indicating that Anakin really does want an answer. Immediately, Obi-Wan begins gulping in air. That chokehold isn't an attempt to kill him, and he knows that, but it's always frightening, wondering if this time will be the time that Anakin's intentions change.

"You know why I couldn't kill you, Anakin," he replies once he has enough breath to answer. It's a struggle to keep his voice even and fairly unemotional, and he's pleased that he mostly succeeds.

A look that could be described as bemused skitters over Anakin's face. "I want to hear you say it."

"And that right there is the root of this whole problem, isn't it? You always needed people to..." He pauses. This is what Anakin wants. He craves knowing that people care about him—and that is what Anakin desires to _hear_ him say.

"To what?" Anakin prompts, smirking.

It's always about manipulation with Anakin. He's set up this situation masterfully, and Obi-Wan knows it, but to not finish his sentence now would be even more humiliating than to admit what Anakin already knows.

"You always needed people to tell you that they _care_."

"So, you do care about me?"

Anakin is nothing if not relentless. "I fear I've done both you and the galaxy a great disservice by doing so."

"Love is never a weakness, Master."

"The majority of the Jedi Order would disagree."

Anakin's lips press into a thin, straight line, belaying his displeasure and downright annoyance. "They're _wrong_. Forget the Jedi Code, Obi-Wan. I don't care what the Jedi think." Except, that's not completely right, and Anakin seems to catch himself, his lips twisting into a cruel smile. "What they_ thought_."

"That wasn't what I meant."

Grinning, Anakin flops back on the bed in a lazy sprawl. "No?" he murmurs as he curls up against a pillow. "What did you mean, then?"

It irks Obi-Wan how easily Anakin moves into his space—how comfortable he seems, as though he's been invited to be here. Anakin owns all of the things in this apartment, it's true, but the way he seems so at ease in this moment—it belays a familiarity and affection that Obi-Wan has no current desire to play out with him. He will not pretend their relationship hasn't changed. He doesn't want Anakin to be _comfortable_.

"I meant that they would disagree not because of our code, but because that love prompted fear, which prompted you to _kill_ them."

The grin fades. "I'm sure they _would_ be sorry about that. In some ways, I am, too."

"Not nearly sorry enough."

"Don't push me, Obi-Wan."

There's enough danger in that tone to make Obi-Wan stop and briefly consider just how far he wants to push. Anakin isn't known for his mercy. Still, just a little further, perhaps, because he's not willing to concede quite yet.

"They were your friends, Anakin, just as much as they were mine. You've asked me why I made the decisions that I did. So now let me ask you the same question: Why?"

Anakin looks almost a little sad as he sits up, trailing his fingers across the sheets of the bed. Skin on silk, reality on the luxury, nightmare on dream—Obi-Wan has altogether too many comparisons for Anakin and what he's done. "It had to happen. The Jedi were plotting to take over. I've come to the conclusion that you were truly ignorant of this plot—it must have been planned out while you were on Utapau—but it's still undeniable that the other Jedi were part of it. My allegiance lay with the Republic and with the Chancellor. I had no choice."

"And with Padme?" he all but whispers. It doesn't matter. He knows Anakin hears him. He's listening too closely not to.

"With Padme," he agrees, nodding. "And with you. And with my children. My_ family_."

"Not with me, Anakin." Inactivity is making him feel awkward, and in an attempt to push that feeling away he gets up to pull on one of the new tunics that Anakin has gotten for him. Anakin's stare never bothered him before, but after everything that's happened—after seeing the red in those eyes on Mustafar—he no longer feels comfortable. The tunic is something to hide behind. "Your allegiance isn't with _me_. You destroyed everything that I love."

"Didn't you love _me_?"

"You killed the person I loved."

"I'm right here, Obi-Wan."

"You are not the boy I trained."

Carefully, he pulls a blue tunic over his head. The loss of his Jedi robes is disconcerting, but he's not surprised that Anakin has taken them away. It's certainly expected that Anakin would want to dispose of as many of the remnants of the Jedi Order as possible.

Apparently, the exception of that is Obi-Wan himself.

"I'm not the boy you trained simply because I now hold to different ideals than you? Master, don't be that closed-minded."

"I hold to justice and democracy; you hold to murder and dictatorship." He winces when the cut on his back pulls. Getting dressed was never so painful before. "That's a chasm of difference that can't possibly be bridged."

At the first sign of his pain, Anakin hurriedly climbs off the bed to help him. "Careful, that wound is just finally beginning to heal properly." With seemingly no reservations, he bats Obi-Wan's hands away and helps him pull his tunic the rest of the way on. "I want justice just as much as you do, Obi-Wan. I just recognize that it will take a strong leader—not a senate—to achieve it. I'm going to bring justice to my new Empire."

"Yours? And what happened to Palpatine?"

Anakin dismisses the question with a shrug. "Only a matter of time. Once I've learned everything I need to from him, his life would only be a needless threat."

"You can't just kill everyone who displeases you."

"Your concern for his well-being surprises me. I'd have thought that the need for his removal would be at least one thing we both agreed on."

"It's not the emperor's health that I worry about—it's _your_ state of mind."

Amusement dances in Anakin's eyes, though he somehow still manages to look pleased at the fact that Obi-Wan cares. "You don't need to worry about that. I know exactly what I'm doing."

"Which makes you_ responsible_—"

"A responsibility I'd willingly take on—"

"—for everything that you've done. If you know what you're doing, that makes you a mass murderer."

"Or it makes me the man who will bring peace and justice to the galaxy."

That's hardly true but, suddenly, Obi-Wan just doesn't want to talk about it anymore. Arguing with utter madness is nearly impossible. He's not even sure why he's trying.

"If you say so, Anakin."

Anakin smiles. "I _do_ say so."

The discussion is closed. It doesn't matter, as Obi-Wan hardly knows what else to say. He may have come to be known as the Negotiator, but, as such, he knows better than anyone else that sometimes words just won't make a difference. There are times when nothing does.

In cases like that, silence is quite often the wiser course of action.


	2. Part 1: Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **Nope, I still don't own anything.

**Author's Note:** Hello again! I'm going to do my best to update this story on a weekly basis but, you know, sometimes life gets in the way. Anyway, I figured I'd try to answer a few of the reviews here:

aliceandjasper: The whole thing about why Obi-Wan can't access the Force is described in greater detail in this chapter. As for the present tense: most of the time I agree with you. I usually prefer a story in the past tense, but I sort of wanted to experiment here and see if I could pull if off.

Anakin T Skywalker: Thank you _so_ much! Telling me this is well-written pretty much made my day. :)

Thank you to everyone else who also reviewed!

**Feedback:** Very much appreciated!

* * *

Bail Organa looks utterly calm as he steps off the turbolift and into Padme's apartment at 500 Republica. His wife, Breha, is the same: in control of her emotions, allowing only a pleasant smile to grace the attractive features of her face. Together, they make a good team. They're controlled and poised. Unreadable.

Obi-Wan is sure that Anakin doesn't suspect them to be anything other than what they appear. Truthfully, he has no reason to but, even so, Obi-Wan worries. Whether he has reason for suspicion or not, Anakin is still clever-he didn't become such a renowned warrior in the Clone Wars just because of his skills with a lightsaber. He was an inspiring commander, a gifted strategist, and a man with a brilliant tactical mind. Even more importantly, he has the strongest connection to the Force of any Jedi in history.

Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan knows, is an opponent people underestimate at the cost of their life.

He just hopes Bail Organa knows that as well as he does.

"Lord Vader," Bail greets. There is no fear in his voice, nor is there any in his posture when he gives Anakin a courteous bow. "General Kenobi," he adds, bowing to Obi-Wan as well. There is no "master" attached to his name-not anymore. He's addressed strictly by a military title now. Anakin wouldn't allow anything else, and, thankfully, Bail appears to have realized this.

Obi-Wan merely inclines his head in acknowledgement of the greeting, unable to bow with the condition his back is in.

Anakin smiles. "Senator Organa."

Bail returns the smile before he gives his wife a nod towards the kitchen. "Why don't you see if Lady Amidala needs any help?"

"I'm sure Padme will appreciate the assistance," Anakin replies gracefully, watching Bail's wife leave. "It's kind of you to offer."

"It's kind of you to have us here at all."

The smile on Anakin's face broadens, and he gestures in the direction of the sitting area that opens onto the balcony. Obi-Wan shivers—it's the same area where he found Padme on that horrible day when he came to ask her for information on Anakin's whereabouts. He doesn't ever want to think about that day again, but his mind can't seem to let go of it, and the memories tumble over and over in his head until he's nearly sure he's going insane.

Quite honestly, Obi-Wan doesn't like that they're staying in Padme's apartments. Of all the places Anakin could have picked, he isn't sure why it had to be this place—a place so full of memories. He knows Padme feels the same way. It must be hard for her to be forced to live in the place where she'd stayed with her husband, especially when this new version of Anakin—this warped, twisted version—is playing at being that same man. It must desecrate every happy memory she has of him.

For Obi-Wan, it constantly reminds him of _that_ day.

Sometimes, the memories are so vivid that he thinks he can still smell the burning on Mustafar, the scent of scorched sand and liquid fire. The memory of the heat is almost suffocating, closing in as he looks up into a pair of eyes that match the world he's on, right down to reds and yellows and the burning fire within. Those eyes are all wrong. They aren't Anakin's anymore, and all he can do is stare back, feeling the weight of his lightsaber in his hand as he senses the pull of what duty requires.

Then, the pain of a lightsaber slicing down his back. Hot, searing pain, so raw and it hurts, it hurts, it _hurts_—

"OBI-WAN!"

He opens his eyes.

Everything swims in his vision, and it's a full moment before he's able to catch himself with a hand on the wall. The material is cool under his hand, a steady anchor as he sways a bit. Cool, _cool_, not like the fire of Mustafar... Just a memory, he thinks desperately, nothing more. He'll be fine.

Anakin is at his side immediately, steadying him with gentle hands on his shoulders. "Obi-Wan, what was that?" he asks quietly. There's concern in his eyes—eyes that are once again blue. Thank the Force that they're _blue_.

"I'm sorry," he mutters, pushing Anakin's touch away. "I'm all right."

"You're pale."

So slowly that Anakin doesn't seem to notice it, Bail slips forward. He's always been a steadying presence, but never more so than now. Obi-Wan is a little embarrassed to realize that he needs that presence, because as much as he hates to admit it, he's losing some of his control.

"Perhaps General Kenobi should sit down," he suggests, keeping a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. There's nothing but mild concern in his eyes. Whatever part he's playing—and Obi-Wan isn't yet entirely sure what it is—he's portraying it completely convincingly.

Anakin's gaze jerks over to Bail as though he'd forgotten his presence. "Yes... yes, I think that would be a good idea. Or maybe you should just go back to bed? You shouldn't overdo it—"

"I'm fine, Anakin."

Anakin, not Vader, and Obi-Wan is well aware that if he was anyone else he'd be killed for calling Anakin that. Force help him, though, he's never calling Anakin by anything other than his given name. He'll die before calling him Vader.

"If I may ask, General Kenobi," Bail begins as he and Anakin guide him to the sofa, "are you ill?"

Perhaps. He's beginning to think so. It's not normal for Jedi to have flashbacks but, well, he can't touch the Force, so_ maybe_...

"Obi-Wan was hurt," Anakin explains. "He sustained a bad lightsaber injury."

He doesn't say exactly _who_ inflicted that pain. That's not surprising, and Obi-Wan tries not to think on it as he leans back on his good side, letting the couch take his weight. "I'm all right," he says again.

Anakin doesn't seem convinced. "Are you in pain?"

He is, at least a little bit, and he knows there's nothing to be gained by lying to Anakin about that. "Some, but it's better than it has been."

"I'll get you something for it."

Over the last few days, Obi-Wan has grown entirely sick of painkillers. Scarcely more than a week ago, back when the Jedi Order was still in existence, he'd relied on the Force to numb most of his pain. That's not even an option anymore. Anakin has taken that away. He can't feel the Force at all now. Not at all.

It's entirely maddening.

_"And he won't be able to feel it? I don't want him to be in pain."_

_"No, my lord, he will likely never even know where it is."_

_The melodious rise and fall of voices comes from somewhere above Obi-Wan, distant, as though he's hearing them through a tunnel. His head feels heavy as he struggles to grasp the meaning of everything he's hearing and feeling. Even putting the pieces of his memories together is difficult._

_Something cool smoothes down over the skin of his forearm, and he inhales sharply at the sensation. He doesn't like the smell that's teasing his senses, either. It's too sharp—too medicinal. It smells like something from the healers' ward. Not Bacta, but something else..._

_A sharp pain shoots up his arm. It's brief but strong, startling, and it leaves him gasping for the air that shock drove from his lungs. What was that? He thinks he should know, but his mind can't seem to make the connection._

_"Easy, Obi-Wan. Almost done."_

_That voice—he knows it. Who is it? He_ should_ know, but he just can't seem to remember. It's all so frustrating._

_"I thought you said he wouldn't feel it?" the voice snaps, sounding irritated to the point of anger._

_"He won't—not now."_

_"And his connection with the Force?"_

_"The drug you used to sedate him earlier on your flight back to Coruscant was mixed with Force dampeners. I'm sure you know this. It's likely why you used it, am I right?" A pause, in which affirmation must have been given, and then, "I thought as much. All in all, his not being able to feel the Force probably made this easier. Many Force-sensitive beings react badly to being cut off so abruptly. A drug is kinder—it eases them away from that presence which they've had all their lives and decreases the connection over the course of a few minutes, whereas this method can be so sudden. It also helped that by the time his connection slipped away completely, he was already likely unconscious—"_

_"I'm well aware of what I did to him. I don't need a medical explanation for why it ended up being helpful. What I want to know is how _this_ will work."_

_There's another slight pause; when a reply comes, it sounds somewhat timid. "Unless he finds the implant, he'll have no connection with the Force."_

_"Good." Obi-Wan can almost hear the smile in that voice. "No adverse side effects?"_

_"Other than being unable to release his emotions to the Force? No, nothing physical."_

_"And the side effects of being unable to release emotions?"_

_"My lord, imagine how you would feel if you were suddenly without that presence which has been a constant all of your life."_

_Silence follows. The seconds slip by, and Obi-Wan can almost feel himself drifting off again. Maybe they won't say anything else. Maybe all of this is just a dream, and Qui-Gon will be coming in to wake him up for his morning classes any moment. Maybe—_

_"I thank you for your help," the voice says, startling Obi-Wan back toward the bit of reality that he's manage to tenuously grasp. "I require nothing further."_

_It seems he doesn't, because after that, there is only the sound of a door. Then, nothing._

_Obi-Wan falls back asleep shortly after. When Anakin wakes him up upon their arrival on Coruscant, he doesn't remember anything at all. _

"Are you all right?"

Forcing a smile, Obi-Wan looks up at Bail. It's good to see a familiar face, or, more specifically, a familiar face that still holds the same personality that it's always held. After everything he's gone through with Anakin, he needs that.

"I'm surviving," he admits quietly. "I haven't given up, if that's what you're asking."

Saying anything else is hardly safe. They both know that. Bail can play the concerned friend, but anything more than that is dangerous. Obi-Wan would be very surprised if Anakin doesn't have this room under some sort of surveillance. What they've said just now—that can be explained away, because everyone knows that Obi-Wan is a Jedi who's lost what passed as his family. Bail's concern is easily legitimized.

"And that injury of yours?"

"It will heal. I've—" He wants to say that he's had worse, but the truth is that, no, he hasn't. "I've had injuries before."

"You're lucky to be alive."

Bail and Yoda might be the only ones to realize just _how _lucky. "I suppose I am."

"How is Padme holding up?"

"As well as can be expected."

"And Lord Vader?"

Obi-Wan cringes at the name. Bail is playing a role—even as they're dangerously skirting around information—but it still stings to hear Anakin called that. "He's the hero of the new empire, as I'm sure you've noticed."

Bail nods. "The people love him. They love you too."

"Me?" That he honestly didn't expect. As far as he'd known, all Jedi were considered traitors and criminals.

"Why not? You're one of only two Jedi who remained loyal to the Republic and the Chancellor. You helped Anakin Skywalker foil the Jedi's plot. You're a hero."

A lie, of course. It's all a terrible lie, but the people of the new empire will believe it, and Obi-Wan can't do anything to change that. Until Anakin is removed from power, his word is law. Lie or not, if he says something is true, people will believe it.

"Of course."

Bail clearly catches the sadness in his voice, but he wisely chooses not to comment on it. "The Republic has been completely dissolved, but at least the war is over. The Emperor has promised peace."

Peace. That's a laughable notion when promised by a Sith lord.

"And that's a promise that will be kept," Anakin adds as he strides back into the room.

Anakin has always liked a good entrance, Obi-Wan thinks as he turns his head towards the voice. As always, he's found a way to announce his presence and gain the sort of attention he likes, even craves… and given the circumstances, what Anakin wants, Anakin _will get_.

Obi-Wan would be willing to bet that his former padawan was listening far before he walked into the room. That would be like him—even like the old Anakin. He always has been curious and almost always clever enough to get his own way. Even as a padawan, he'd been like that. The only difference was that, in those days, his curiosity was far less malicious.

More importantly, at that point in time, Obi-Wan had also possessed the power to stop him from eavesdropping.

"I understand that there are concerns," Anakin continues, "but peace _will_ be achieved. Once we root out and eliminate the last of the rebel factions, the galaxy will know real justice, right down to the Outer Rim territories."

It's likely that Anakin didn't mean to let the information slip, and while he doesn't look particularly alarmed that he has, his furtive glance toward Obi-Wan would indicate that he knows his former master has likely caught the implications of what he's said: rebel factions still exist. Interesting. Obi-Wan hadn't quite dared to hope, but maybe other Jedi _did _escape. It's possible...

As if sensing the intensity of his thoughts—which is entirely possible—Anakin dispenses with any sort of subtly and turns his full attention to Obi-Wan. "Here, Master, take these," he instructs, handing Obi-Wan a glass of water and some pills. More painkillers. He's taken so many lately that he's frankly surprised they still work at all.

Bail frowns almost imperceptibly at Anakin's use of titles. Master. Obi-Wan isn't surprised he's confused—he himself is confused. He's not Anakin's master anymore, but Anakin still clings to the old name like a youngling clings to a favorite blanket. It's an odd display of sentimentality, and it makes no sense given what he's become—Obi-Wan would have thought that he'd have wanted to do away with anything that could have possibly marked him as ever having been subordinate.

"Thank you," he responds, taking the pills with no protest. At first he was concerned that the pills might be something a little more... inventive than painkillers, but he's reached the point where he's conceded that if Anakin wants to drug him with something more than a painkiller, he'll find a way to do it, regardless of if Obi-Wan takes any pills. Resistance has to be applied in smaller, more productive, and less noticeable ways.

"Senator Organa," Anakin begins, taking a seat in a chair across from Obi-Wan, "I'm interested to hear Alderaan's views on the new Empire. I've heard rumors that there are factions of resistance there." There's something very business-like in his tone; more than likely, this conversation is why he brought Bail here tonight.

"I am confident that the planet as a whole will choose to join the Empire."

Anakin smiles and leans further back into his chair, shifting so that his limbs lay in a sort of languid sprawl that somehow manages to appear dignified. Anakin always has had that kind of effortless grace. "Good. It would be... unfortunate if they did not."

"I don't foresee any difficulties, my lord."

"Good."

It's all meaningless talk. Anakin likely already knows everything that he's asking—he's merely inquiring in hopes that he'll find out where _Bail's_ loyalties lie. Everything happening here is a drawn-out game of war... and Obi-Wan is so tired of war. After the Clone Wars—after losing the Jedi—he would dearly love to never again have to entertain the reality of combat.

Unfortunately, he knows the war isn't over yet, just as he knows that, by the end of it, his duty may require things of him that he's not sure he's ready to give.

He has to wonder if he'll _ever_ be ready to give them.

Sighing so softly as to not be heard, he settles more firmly against the couch. Tonight will likely not be pleasant, but Anakin will be irritated if he doesn't play along, and he doesn't want his former padawan to be anything other than appeased while Bail is present. Obi-Wan can take Anakin's temper—and often does when he has something to say that seems worth the damage it will cause—but he doesn't want to involve Bail. Truthfully, what he'd _really_ like would be the chance to talk to Bail alone with no listening devices in the vicinity.

Resigning himself to a night of tension and uncomfortably, Obi-Wan sits back and prepares to do his part. After all, it's all he's ever done.

Now, it's just more important than ever.


	3. Part 1: Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

**Author's Note:**

aliceandjasper: I'm glad that Anakin's motives seem complicated. At this point, I'm trying to portray him as still trying to figure them out himself. I'm glad the present tense is working for you, though. I have to admit, I'm kind of having fun with it. :)

ObiBettina7: I hope I answered some of your questions about Padme in this chapter.

Prismatic: The Emperor's reaction will be a less than happy one. That's coming eventually.

Thank you to everyone else who also reviewed!

**Feedback:** Makes me happy and productive.

* * *

Padme is very, very pregnant. Quite honestly, Obi-Wan isn't really sure how she managed to prepare to have company when her stomach is so large. However she did it, it couldn't have been comfortable, and he has to admit that he's secretly very happy men don't have to go through this sort of thing.

The ability to cope with pregnancy is only one of the many reasons that Obi-Wan admires Padme. He's never much cared for politicians, but watching her strength, her drive, and her sheer will to accomplish her goals while still maintaining morals—it forces him to admit that she's not like most other people in her profession. Even in the ways that she _is_ like her colleagues in the Senate, she's still somehow _different_ in the ways that would make Obi-Wan dislike her. However, like most other politicians, she has a frightening aptitude for presenting a flawless emotional mask, and even if she doesn't use that mask to deceive people for her own gain, she's still unreadable. It's impossible to tell what she's really thinking when, as she's doing now, she presents a calm, happy facade to the world.

"We've enjoyed your company very much," she tells the Organas. "You'll have to come again."

Ever the gentlemen, Bail smiles and gives her a formal bow. "We thank you very much for your hospitality."

"I think it's I who should be thanking your wife for her help in the kitchen." Padme shoots Bail's wife a quick grin. "I'm not as mobile as I was a few months ago."

Even Anakin looks amused by that. "But as beautiful as ever," he quips. There's genuine humor shinning in his eyes, and if he could just be like this—like the Anakin that Obi-Wan knows—then maybe things would be all right again. "Thank you for coming, Senator Organa," Anakin says, though his gaze lingers on Padme for as long as possible before he turns to Bail. "I'm sure that the Emperor will be in touch with you."

Bail merely nods. "I look forward to it."

A lie, but Anakin doesn't seem to detect it, leaving Obi-Wan torn between the tragedy of the fact that that's all that matters now and relief that Anakin didn't notice anything.

"Thank you again for having us," Breha says as she steps forward and gives Padme a quick hug, her touch lingering, almost as though she's hesitant to let Padme go. Does she know just how much danger Padme could be in? Obi-Wan wouldn't be surprised if she did. She's every bit as perceptive as Bail, and no doubt her husband has apprised her of the situation. "I trust we'll see you again."

Padme smiles. There's something inscrutable in her gaze-something almost determined. Whatever it is, it seems nearly out of place in the situation, odd in a way that Obi-Wan can't quite define.

"You will," she says quietly, giving Bail's wife one final nod before Breha turns toward the door with her husband.

No more pleasantries are exchanged, and Bail and his wife leave quietly. Obi-Wan is able to glance just far enough beyond the door to see that they're being escorted by a droid to their ship on the landing platform. It would be nice to be able to go outside again, he thinks, out where the cool night air could smooth over his skin and soothe some of his frayed nerves. Since coming here seven days ago, he hasn't been outside, and he finds that he misses it. Part of him—the foolish part that he's long since learned not to act on—wants to slip out the door behind the Organas, just so that he can feel the fresh air.

As if it can sense his thoughts, the door hisses shut, effectively cutting off any escape. He won't be able to open it now—only Anakin can do that.

Anakin's hand on his arm startles him, and he spins around, finding himself inches from his former padawan. "You look tired, Master," he murmurs, his touch on Obi-Wan's arm strengthening until it becomes a grip that Obi-Wan knows he'd do well not to try to twist out of. "You should go to bed."

There's nothing malicious in Anakin's demeanor—quite the opposite, actually—but experience has proven that Anakin's temper can flare at the slightest provocation. In that, at least, he is still the Anakin Skywalker that Obi-Wan has always known. The difference is that Lord Vader's fits of anger are typically more deadly and painful than Anakin's ever were.

"I _am _tired," Obi-Wan admits. A better explanation, perhaps, would be that he's_ still_ tired. Ever since waking upon his arrival on Coruscant, he's been exhausted. More than likely, it's because from the moment he returned to consciousness, he's been bombarded with decisions of loyalty, brotherhood, and duty. He's not sure he'll ever be strong enough to face them all, and trying has worn him down. That moment when he first woke and realized the state of the world—it's burned into his mind forever. As long as it's there, he's not sure he'll ever be able to relax.

_Obi-Wan awakens to the disconcerting feeling of a presence in his mind. Whatever it is, it's pushing lightly against his shields, reminding him of a time not so long past: Anakin used to do that when he wanted to wordlessly get Obi-Wan's attention. There were many times—not all exclusively when Anakin was a young child—when he'd impatiently push against his master's mind until he gained the attention that he wanted. It had been both irritating and endearing, depending on the situation (a young Anakin who had just had a nightmare and wanted comfort was distinctly less annoying than an Anakin who was acting childish because he was impatient for his master to finish talking so that they could go spar). Now, it's merely disconcerting, because as he begins to drift further back towards consciousness, Obi-wan realizes something: the Anakin in those memories isn't who Anakin is now._

_Obi-Wan opens his eyes. "We're home, Master." The words seem to be said with affection, and as soon as Obi-Wan realizes that it is Anakin who's speaking them, his mind slides out of focus and into a haze of confusion. The last thing he remembers is Anakin striking him with his lightsaber, hurting him... telling him that he wasn't going to kill him. The memory is slightly fuzzy, but he's sure he remembers. He can't have imagined it, he's positive he didn't, even if everything feels wrong. Something is missing...He can't access the Force._

_"Do you even know what you've done, Anakin?" he asks, suddenly tired as he runs a hand through his hair. Just that small movement alone causes a surge of discomfort to shoot up his back, and he squeezes his eyes shut against not only the onslaught of pain, but against the wave of memory that comes with it. "What you've destroyed? Everything all of us have worked our whole lives for, you've managed to pick apart as though it meant nothing."_

_Anakin, who is sitting on a chair next to his bed, doesn't even have the decency to look away. Obi-Wan can see the focus in his eyes, and it makes him feel uncomfortable—dissected, even, like a curiosity rather than a person. He can't begin to imagine what has happened while he's been unconscious._

_Anakin's expression darkens. "You don't know what you're talking about, Obi-Wan. You've been brainwashed your whole life to believe the lies of the Jedi."_

_"On the contrary, Anakin, it is you who doesn't understand." There's a tinge of yellow and red beginning to taint Anakin's eyes. It was the same back on Mustafar, and it leaves Obi-Wan feeling vaguely ill. This is not the boy he raised._

_"Did anyone else survive, Obi-wan? Or were you the only one?"_

_"Do you really think I'll tell you that?"_

_Anakin clenches his jaw. "If you know what's good for you, you will."_

_"You know me better than perhaps anyone else—do you truly think that threats of that nature will persuade me to tell you what you want to know?" Sighing, he gets his arms underneath him in an effort to sit up. It takes work, and Anakin offers no help, but he does eventually manage to get himself propped against the wall. The burn in his back is unbelievable: Anakin has probably given him something to help with the pain, but when he imagines how he could alleviate it if he had the help of the Force, the idea of normal medicine is laughable. "I've failed anyhow, Anakin—if you want to kill me, go ahead and do so."_

_"I don't want to kill you."_

_No, Obi-Wan supposes. It's never that simple._

_"I—Obi-Wan, I don't want to kill you," he repeats, the features of his face softening out a bit and, for a moment, Obi-wan can almost see a trace of the boy who was his padawan. "You and me and Padme—we can be a family. The baby, too."_

_"Anakin," he says slowly, "you know me well enough to understand that I will never go along with what you've done—with what you're planning to do. I've seen the bodies littering the Temple floors. I saw the security tapes of you killing the very people who took you in and accepted you. You are not the man I cared for—you are not the boy I trained. The man I knew would not have betrayed those he was loyal to."_

_Immediately, the air in the room begins to spark with tension born of darkness. Obi-Wan doesn't need the Force to feel that. Still, he wants it so badly—needs its comfort—and so he tries to reach for it, straining so fervently that his mind hurts._

_He can't touch it._

_Anakin regards him with a horribly satisfied smile. "Having problems with the Force, Master?"_

_Taking a deep breath, Obi-wan tries to calm himself. Showing emotion is what Anakin wants him to do, he's sure, and he's not willing to give him that satisfaction. "You can't touch it. Go on—try again if you don't believe me."_

_He won't, of course, not when Anakin is staring at him with that nauseatingly complacent smile. He's so satisfied with what he's done—he's clearly confident that he's outsmarted his former master, and the worst part is that, at least in this, Obi-wan is fairly certain that he has._

_"Or don't," Anakin says, laughing a little. "Always stubborn, aren't you, Master? It's a little different when I'm the one in control, though, isn't it?"_

_"If you're trying to get me to cooperate with you, you're not doing a very good job."_

_The air around them almost seems to crackle with Anakin's following surge of anger. Obi-wan can feel the hairs on his neck rise as surely as if he were touched with an electrical current. "I don't need your cooperation," Anakin seethes furiously. "I can do whatever I want, regardless of your desires. And I will, Obi-wan—I'm going to rule this galaxy. You'll see."_

_"There are people who will oppose you. Myself included."_

_It's not a surprise when Anakin reaches out and slams him into the wall, but it is certainly unwelcome—so, so unwelcome, and he thinks he can feel the wound on his back opening up further. Anakin must notice the pain he's in—he knows he's gritting his teeth to keep from crying out—but he doesn't seem to care. "You have no way to do so. You failed in your mission, and now you'll get to watch as I bring peace to the galaxy. People are going to hail me as the hero who finally ends this conflict, and then you'll see how wrong you were."_

_Obi-Wan expects more violence, but suddenly, inexplicably, the anger vanishes from Anakin's being. He's still holding Obi-wan against the wall, but his touch fades into something far gentler. It's not a change Obi-Wan was expecting, nor is it one that he quite knows how to deal with. "You will see," he murmurs, his eyes locking with Obi-Wan's as he finally lets him go. "I'm going to have everything that I ever wanted. I can save everyone I care about—I won't have to lose any of you."_

_It's always attachment with Anakin. Always something originally selfless that has somehow twisted into the very epitome of selfishness. He wants to protect others, but somewhere along the line his motives changed. It's not really about protecting others anymore—it's about protecting himself from having to feel the pain of loss. "Anakin," Obi-wan sighs, suddenly feeling as though he's seen too much, "Anakin, you've already lost us."_

"I'll show him up to bed, Anakin."

Padme's voice breaks through Obi-Wan's memories forcibly enough for him to realize that now is not the time to be recalling things like that. Anakin is the strongest Force-sensitive to ever live—if he wants to pick up on Obi-Wan's emotions, he will, and leaving them out on display will only make things easier for him.

Anakin looks somewhat skeptical. "His bandages need to be changed."

"I'm not a child, Anakin," he snaps, probably in direct contradiction of good sense. "You don't need to take care of me."

"I wasn't trying to make you feel—"

"I hardly think you care how you make me feel. I'm beginning to think you don't care about me—or anyone else for that matter—very much at all."

He knows he's gone too far when he sees rivulets of red beginning to seep into Anakin's eyes, eerie and strange, like lava pouring into water. It's so _wrong_—it's the antithesis of everything Obi-Wan has ever loved about Anakin.

"If that were the truth, you'd be _dead_," Anakin murmurs, his voice low and deadly. It's a warning, and it's one Obi-Wan is aware he'd better heed if he wants to avoid further injury.

"Padme can change my bandages as well as you can, Anakin," he replies, dropping the hostility. He has to know what battles he wants to fight, and this is not one of them. It's just as well to let Anakin win this round.

Anakin's eyes are still ringed with red, but he does at least nod. "Fine."

"Come on, Obi-Wan," Padme says softly. The touch she lays on his arm manages to be both delicate and commanding. It's such a contradiction, but still so _Padme_. He's surprised to find that it eases his nerves.

He may dislike having to be cared for, but at least he's getting away from Anakin and all the confusion his presence creates. And Padme—she understands, perhaps better than anyone else left alive.

Together, they leave the room.

The Senatorial Apartments are far too luxurious for Obi-Wan's taste, and as he follows Padme toward the bedroom, he can't help but begin to mentally scrutinize just how wasteful it all is. Expensive decoration, beautiful craftsmanship, rich colors—it's all so foreign to him. He misses his simple, sparsely decorated Jedi quarters. He misses his Jedi life, most everything about it really…

Including his partner.

More than anything, he misses Anakin.

The_ real_ Anakin.

"You shouldn't try to provoke him."

"I know," Obi-Wan admits, following Padme into the bedroom.

"Then why do you?"

"You didn't have a hand in raising him, Padme. In some sense, I will always see him as the small child who scattered droids parts around our quarters—the child who I had to force to take a bath and who I took care of when he was sick. To see that child so twisted—it grates on me to take orders from the warped person in his place."

"You may have raised him, Obi-Wan, but I _married_ him. Don't you think I face a similar situation?" She waves her hand, indicating for him to take off his shirt. The idea alone is enough to embarrass him, and even as he complies with her request, he can feel himself flushing. He never did like being exposed in the presence of the opposite sex.

"I imagine you do." To some degree, she's right, but in other ways, she couldn't be more wrong. He knew Anakin in a way that she never will, just as she knows Anakin in a way that _he_ never will. "I don't think it really matters anymore."

"It always matters, Obi-Wan."

If he could still touch the Force, he imagines that her touch would cause it to ripple, cool and gentle, as she removes the bandages from his back. It's so different from any touch of Anakin's, who is all fire and passion.

"Thank you for you help," he mutters.

Deftly, her fingers skim over the skin of his back, checking for infection and gauging healing. She's good at this—she has a mother's touch, and while Obi-Wan has never really missed not having ever known that feeling, right now, just in this moment, he's beginning to think that maybe he was denied something good by not ever knowing the woman who gave birth to him.

"We all need a little help sometimes."

"I suppose we do. Is there anything wrong with the way it's healing?"

"No." She pauses. "Anakin really did this to you?"

He doesn't bother to answer—she already knows, and he doesn't like the way the confirmation sounds on his lips.

"I just—it's so hard to believe."

"Truthfully, Padme, this was merciful, at least from Anakin's point of view." Sighing heavily, he runs a hand through his hair. "We're trained to fight, and in the heat of a battle you don't show an armed enemy mercy. I had a weapon and was a threat. His training would tell him to kill me."

"His training would have told him not to fight you in the first place."

"His Jedi training, yes—not his combat training. Likely the only reason that I'm alive is because I couldn't make myself kill him. He made a mistake and gave me an opening, which I didn't take. My failure to capitalize on his mistake left _me_ open."

"Quite obviously, he took _his_ opportunity."

"He didn't kill me—he could have, but he didn't."

"Don't excuse what he did. He _hurt_ you—one of the few people who has always stood by him."

"I don't excuse what he did. I will never excuse what he did. I just—perhaps I don't want to believe that the person I care for is completely gone. Someone like Vader wouldn't have spared me. I—It gives me hope that Anakin is still in him somewhere."

Glancing over his shoulder, he catches her bitter smile. "I thought the Jedi weren't supposed to form attachments?"

"I'm not a perfect Jedi. I've always been prone to forming attachments. It's a particular fault of mine."

"I'd rather view it as a strength. Love is never a weakness."

Yes. Anakin said the same there earlier, as he recalls. It's more than a little eerie to hear the words from Padme's lips also. "Anakin believes the same, I think."

"In that, at least, he's right. He's simply forgotten that love and hate are opposites—when he gives in to his hate, he smothers the part of him that loves."

"Love is what led him to make these choices."

"No, Obi-Wan—he lost faith in love. He lost faith that the light could save me, and he lost faith in its ability to hold him together if it chose to allow me to die. Instead, he tried to embrace the dark, because he thought it would give him control. Fear of loss is what led him to make these choices—not love."

Padme is truly an amazing woman, but hearing her talk now leaves Obi-Wan quite glad that he never got into politics. These persuasive arguments—he's never much liked them. He'll leave that to more capable people such as Padme. "You should have spoken with Master Yoda about matters like these," he jokes, chuckling. "I believe you could have given him quite a challenge."

"Maybe if I had, things would have been different." She smiles as she places a new bandage on his back. "Very different, maybe."

"It's hardly worth thinking over. We can't change the past—we can only change the future."

"And Anakin?" When she moves back and goes to get him a set of sleep pants, he takes it as his cue that she's done. Thankfully, she respectfully turns her back as he changes into the pants. "What about him? Do you think he can be changed?"

"The only one who has ever been able to change Anakin is Anakin himself. I think the real question is whether there will ever be enough incentive for him to do so."

"Do you think he _can_ change?"

It's impossible to deny the hope on her face. She wants to believe Anakin can be saved, and he understands—he _does_, because he wants to believe it as well. More than anything, he wants to believe, even if it means shattering every Jedi ideal he's ever had. He wants Anakin to be the first to turn back from the dark side.

So desperately, he wants to think it can happen.

Unfortunately, want is not reality, and Obi-Wan won't tell her something he's not sure he believes.

"I don't know."

She's disappointed. Obi-wan can see the emotion lingering in her eyes, even if it doesn't quite reach her face. She wants him to tell her "yes", but he can't quite do it. He doesn't want it to hurt so much again if he's wrong.

"Goodnight, Obi-Wan."

Slowly, she reaches down to pull the covers up over his shoulders. It's a simple gesture—or it should be. Instead, when she drops a piece of paper under the blanket in his full view, it becomes something more.

"Goodnight," he replies, reaching down to clutch the paper like a lifeline. Jedi training allows him to keep his expression calm, even as he feels his heart begin to race with hope. Still, nothing can stop his hands from shaking slightly as he clutches the note. After all the disappointment and hurt, he fervently wants this to be something good, and he knows he shouldn't hope so much, but something in him needs to.

Padme doesn't shut off the light, though she does dim it before leaving the room, shutting the door behind her with a soft click. He's left alone with his thoughts and the paper as he lies in a bedroom that isn't his, in a bed that isn't his, and in a place that he shouldn't be in at all.

As soon as she's gone, he pulls up the sheets over his head so that, in the case that Anakin is monitoring this room, he won't be able to see. As soon as he unfolds the paper, it becomes clear that it's written in Bail's messy scrawl.

_So far, twenty-one Jedi have been confirmed as surviving Order 66. Three-fourths of the Jedi Council was killed. Yoda, though he survived, was not able to defeat Palpatine. He is organizing the remaining Jedi, but it will take time. Survivors are still making contact. There is hope, but nothing certain._

_Yoda's orders are this: Listen to what you can. Find out what you can. You are in the best place to gather information that might be useful. If you can exploit your position to gain an advantage, do so._

_Above all, be careful, Obi-Wan._

It's not terrible news—it's better than it might have been, but some part of Obi-Wan curls up and dies when he reads it. So many are Jedi dead. His way of life is truly gone, at least for now. He will never again—at least not anytime soon—live in the Temple, will never speak with the Jedi Council, and will never see the wonder of the new initiates learning lightsaber combat moves for the first time. He will never sleep in his own quarters at the Temple, and he will _certainly_ never hear Anakin's light snores across the room as they share quarters on a mission. There are so many things that are undeniably over.

Taking a deep breath, Obi-Wan pushes the note inside the waist of his sleep pants. In the morning, he'll take it in the 'fresher with him when he showers, and will blur the ink with water. For now, he'll just try to live with what he's read.

Turning over, he buries his face in a pillow.

He doesn't let himself cry.


	4. Part 1: Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **If I owned Star Wars, I wouldn't be working a job I don't like just to try to pay for college.

**Author's Note:**

Kyer: Good point. I actually thought of spit but, well, I had a hard time picturing Obi-Wan actually doing that. I'm sure he'd say something about it being uncivilized.

ObiBettina7: I'm glad I was able to clear up a few of your questions.

Thanks to everyone else who reviewed!

**Feedback:** Inspires me to get off my butt and go edit the next chapter in a timely fashion.

* * *

Anakin watches his wife. She's just come back from helping Obi-Wan, and she's changed into her nightgown, which affords him with a welcome opportunity to admire the way the fabric falls across her skin, lightly clinging to her body, accentuating all the right curves. Once, she would have moved to show that off-to show it off for _him_. She's not doing that now, but he's still appreciative of the enticing sight of her body covered with nothing but smooth material that shimmers like sunlight on the lakes of Naboo.

Unfortunately, he knows that the only thing he'll get to do tonight is watch. She's heavily pregnant, and while he knows that's only an excuse she's using to keep him from touching, he humors her. The baby's health is important—he agrees with that—and he'd be lying if he didn't admit that some part of him is afraid that, should he touch her, he'll hurt the baby.

The baby.

According to every medical report, the baby is perfectly healthy. Padme hadn't wanted to know anything more than that and Anakin has continued to honor that request. Everything will be a surprise.

Maybe that surprise will be just what they need.

They need something, he thinks as he scrubs his hand over his face in frustration. Something to bring them together again—anything that will smooth over the cracks in their relationship that have been present since Mustafar. Ever since that day, she won't kiss or touch him, and as much as it irks him, he's been sleeping in the guest bedroom.

He _should _make an effort to be more understanding. She's going through a lot, and the medical droids had told him she was showing signs of depression. It understandable for her to be acting like this, even if it isn't pleasant; the droids had told him as much when he'd taken her for a check-up after they'd returned to Coruscant.

_Anakin sighs heavily as he watches from behind a glass wall as the medical droid examines Padme. They're back home on Coruscant now, where she can get proper care, but she still seems so weak, and the droid is taking what feels like forever to complete it's examination. It makes him nervous—what if something's wrong? What if-Force forbid-what if those dreams he saw still come to pass._

_No._

_Furiously, he pushes the thoughts out of his mind. He's changed things. After all, Yoda did say that the future was always in motion-it can be altered. That was one thing the old troll was right about, Anakin is sure. He has changed the future. He's only feeling this way now because the droid is taking so long. That's it. That's all he'll allow it to be._

_Finally, after Anakin finds himself teetering on the brink of barging in and demanding answers, the medical droid finishes and makes its way out of Padme's room. "Well?" he demands, not in the mood for any circuitous talk._

_"Physically, she's completely healthy," the droid explains, so emotionless, as always. It's such a parody of humanity. "Any medical problems that she is experiencing are completely caused by her mental state."_

_"Her mental state?"_

_"She is showing signs of depression."_

_Anakin just barely restrains the desire to crush the droid. More bad news. It's always bad news, and he's had that so much lately-too much to really tolerate it well anymore. "You will make sure that she's all right."_

_The droid inclines its head slightly in what could be construed as a nod. "Yes, Sir."_

_Its assurance is hardly enough, but Anakin is well-aware that there's nothing more he can do. For the time being, it apparently will have to suffice. "She is not to leave this room, do you understand?" The droid answers in the affirmative again, and Anakin adds, "If she needs anything, contact me. If she asks to speak to me at any time, you are to allow her to."_

_He doesn't wait for an answer. Instead, he turns on his heal and marches out of the medical bay, out of the entire building, and out from under the influence of the problems that are contained within its walls. For the time being, at least, he won't have to think about the possibility of Padme's death-for now, he has something else to concentrate on._

_Anakin has always been at his best when he has a set mission to accomplish. He'd much rather be out in the field, facing down an enemy than sitting at home, analyzing his own thoughts. Before the war it hadn't been so bad, but ever since the conflict started, one of the things he's begun to realize that he fear most is being alone with his own thoughts. Truthfully, it's why he hates meditation so much. He doesn't always like the things that are in his own head. A set goal makes that go away, and for just a little while, he can focus his efforts outward. He has that now. He won't forget that. _

_He needs to head back to the apartments and make sure everything is ready._

_Things will be perfect when she comes home._

Anakin had done his best to make things comfortable for her arrival, but when she'd walked through the doors, she'd regarded the apartment with something resembling distaste. It was clear she didn't want to be there. She still doesn't want to be there.

"Is Obi-Wan all right?" he asks from the doorway of the room that is supposed to be their bedroom.

Padme pivots around to face him, her nightdress fluttering around her legs. She hadn't known he was there, obviously, and he's more than a little annoyed at how she appears to wish he weren't.

"He's healing. It's his mind I worry about."

"How so?"

"You didn't notice how for a few moments he seemed to be completely distracted downstairs tonight?" Throwing him a furtive glance, she runs a brush through her hair and regards him coolly. He doesn't appreciate her condescending manner, and he considers saying something, but thinks better of it. Anger is acceptable-it gives him strength-but it will hardly get him what he wants in this situation.

"Yes, I did."

"And it didn't worry you?"

"It did worry me, but he said he was fine."

"He _would_ say that."

If she would just stop acting like this, things would be so much easier. He's not some disgusting life-form that she found on the bottom of her shoe-he's her husband. "You think you know what's wrong?"

For the first time since he's entered the room, she gives him her full attention without lacing it with irritation. The circumstances aren't ideal-he'd far prefer she give him attention in matters far more... physical, but at this point, he'll take what he can get. "I saw it happen with many of the people who were harmed in the Trade Federation's invasion of Naboo. Essentially, he's reliving in his mind his most traumatic moments."

That's... more than a little chilling. Anakin knows Obi-Wan, knows some of the things he's seen-it's not as though Obi-Wan's mind lacks a selection of painful memories from which to choose. Of course, he can fairly easily guess exactly what he settled on tonight.

"He thought he was back on Mustafar," he guesses.

She merely nods.

That's... not quite what Anakin expected, nor is it what he'd particularly like to deal with. If he had his choice, he'd rather just forget all about Mustafar. Obi-Wan is here now, Anakin doesn't want to hurt him, and he'd prefer not to remember that he ever did.

"He's never done that before. Are you sure you're not mistaken?"

Clearly, that is the wrong thing to say. She obviously finds the comment irritating: the corners of her eyes tighten, and her lips purse as she fixes him with a half-concealed glare. "He was able to release his emotions into the Force before, Anakin. Trained Force-sensitive beings typically don't suffer from this."

"I had nightmares."

"You had premonitions. This is entirely different. This isn't something that's going to happen-it's something that already _has_ happened. It's all in his mind, because he can't find a way to release it."

He doesn't have to ask her what she wants him to do-he knows already. "He would be far too dangerous if he could still access the Force."

"So you'd prefer to let him suffer instead?"

Her voice grates on him. She was never this patronizing before, and the fact that she is now-it irritates him, stirring up something dark and angry inside of him that just keeps increasing with every icy word that comes out of her mouth. "I'd prefer that he isn't given the opportunity to do something that would make me have to hurt him again."

"Is it always about you, Anakin?"

Why is she being like this? Pushing him, just _trying_ to make him angry. By the Force, he's doing his best, but his control is cracking, almost to the point where it shatters. She can't talk to him like that, like he's an incompetent, selfish child who doesn't care about his former master. He does care-he does! "Be quiet!" he snaps, his voice halfway to a shout. Then, quieter, "Just-just stop."

She doesn't. If anything, the vitality in her expression increases, intensifying to a point that he hasn't seen since Mustafar. For the first time since everything changed, she looks truly alive again. "You've stopped thinking of anyone but yourself. Everyone who has ever loved you, you've betrayed—"

"STOP!"

Before he even knows what he's doing, he uses the Force to grab all the contents on her bedside table and slams them into the opposite wall. Things scatter in every direction, strewing destruction across the floor. He likes that destruction and the satisfying feeling it gives him. It's so good to see things broken, like a tangible expression of how he feels. Letting everything out—it's satisfying.

Padme is silent, her eyes trained on the broken mess. Anakin can see fear flickering in her expression.

"Don't bring this up again, Padme," he whispers. "Not ever again."

And he just leaves. Just turns on his heal and leaves, because he can't handle more right now. She's wrong about him. She has to be.

He won't consider anything else.

Obi-Wan is drifting somewhere between sleeping and waking when he hears the door to his room slide open. Even in his sleep-hazed mind, he knows that shouldn't be happening.

The bed shifts beside him.

Failing to stifle a muffled groan, Obi-Wan rolls over and groggily reaches out to touch the body that has just settled beside him. It's not that he needs to—he instinctively knows who it is. Who else could it be? It's Anakin, always Anakin, who has probably had another nightmare, or who simply needs to talk. It doesn't matter—Obi-Wan isn't angry and, truth be told, he almost looks forward to the times that Anakin crawls into his bed. Sometimes, it's nice to know that Anakin still needs him.

A quick touch confirms that it is Anakin, and with that confirmation, Obi-Wan forces himself to leave sleep behind in order to deal with whatever has Anakin upset. Only, as he breaks through the sleep-fog that is swirling around his mind, he realizes that this isn't the Anakin he knows.

Anakin shouldn't be trying to crawl into his bed—not anymore.

Immediately, he shoots upward, startled beyond what he'd thought was possible anymore. "What are you doing, Anakin?" His voice is harsh and suspicious, he knows, but he can hardly find it in himself to care. Anakin can't possibly think that this is acceptable. Not anymore.

"If you had the opportunity to kill Sidious," Anakin murmurs softly from beside him, "would you?"

"Anakin, what are you doing here?"

Sighing a little, Anakin rolls over so that he's lying on his side, facing Obi-Wan, who is still stiffly seated among the covers. "It's what I always did when I was younger. You never seemed to mind then."

"You stopped doing this after you were knighted."

"Because I was given separate quarters. Of course, we were never home long enough for me to use them—and I always stayed with Padme, anyway—and since we shared quarters when on missions, I hardly needed to do it then."

"And what are you doing, exactly?"

Obi-Wan has never quite understood what his Padawan meant by these nighttime visits. He'd only ever known that they occurred when Anakin was in need of comfort—when he'd needed to physically be close to someone. There had never been anything remotely sexual about them, however, and so Obi-Wan hadn't felt the need to put a stop to them. He hadn't wanted to. There was something about Anakin lying close to him that made him feel right, like his life was worth something. It let him know that Anakin needed him, and even as he'd known he wasn't supposed to be quite so attached to another being as to require that confirmation, it still felt good.

"You never answered my question," Anakin replies, bluntly avoiding Obi-Wan's own inquiry. "Would you kill Sidious?"

Why he's even considering playing this game of Anakin's, Obi-Wan isn't sure, but there's something in him that feels the need to answer. "You know it would be my duty to do so."

"Not your duty," Anakin snarls, suddenly upset, and, really, that's such an _alarmingly_ quick turn now. "You don't have to worry about duty anymore."

"Anakin, I am still a Jedi, no matter what."

"That's not true!" A deep breath, and then a calmer, "It's not. The Jedi are gone, Obi-Wan. Palpatine killed Yoda. He was the last one, wasn't he?"

It's not true. Anakin is lying. Bail's note told him otherwise. Unless Palpatine killed Yoda after that...

No.

Obi-Wan doesn't even want to consider the possibility. Right now, he won't believe it—not until he sees proof otherwise. Anakin probably doesn't even believe it himself. He's likely just fishing for information.

Anakin shifts a little closer to him. "Don't you understand, Obi-Wan? The Jedi might have started out with good intentions, but in the end, they strayed from their original path. They wanted power just as much as the Sith, even if they didn't know it."

So that's what this is? A grain of truth mixed in with a lie? Unfortunately, it's a lie that Obi-Wan is beginning to think that Anakin truly believes.

"So you admit that you want power?"

"I want the power to save Padme, yes. I had dreams about her, Master, dreams like I had about my mother—"

"I'm not your master anymore, Anakin. I haven't been in a long time."

Anakin stills next to him. "You never minded before. You knew I wasn't using it as a title of respect just because you were on the Council—you knew I was saying it because you were _my_ master—"

Of course he knew. Back before the world became chaos, it had felt right to let Anakin keep calling him by that title. Now... now it still feels more right than he wants it to. He can hardly fathom how he became so weak. "Maybe I just don't want to remember that I failed you."

"Maybe the galaxy should be thanking you for failing to instill me with Jedi ideals."

"You know I don't believe that."

"You should."

He sounds so reasonable, like the Anakin that Obi-Wan knew. It hurts to hear the similarities. "If you weren't calling me 'master' because I'd been given the rank of master, why were you?" he asks tiredly, eager to steer them away from the subject of his failures. They're just-they're too many, and he's too tired to consider them at the moment.

"The same reason that a son doesn't call a father by his first name just because he moves out on his own."

"I'm not your father, Anakin. I may have trained you, but Jedi are forbidden to express the same feelings toward their padawans as fathers are towards their sons."

"No attachments, I know," Anakin mutters, his tone as acidic as Obi-Wan has ever heard it. "All those years, and all I ever wanted was for you to straight-out tell me that you cared."

"Maybe that's where I went wrong."

"By not loving me?" Anakin asks, his voice dripping with sarcastic disbelief, as if he can't quite believe that's what Obi-Wan could mean.

"No," he responds slowly, wanting to get his words just right, so that maybe Anakin can finally understand... "Because I let you realize that there was a possibility that I _did_."

Silence.

"Anakin, why are you really here tonight?"

Anakin still doesn't speak, instead seeming to prefer to languish in a silence that is as empty as the darkness of the room. Obi-Wan lays back against the pillows; a reply will come if he waits long enough. Anakin always answers—he always has to have the last word. He wants to be remembered, which is something Obi-Wan just chose never to think about, except for the times that it pushed its way to the forefront of his mind, to a place where he just couldn't ignore it anymore. Of course, he never should have indulged in the luxury of ignoring something like that—if he'd thought more about Anakin's short-comings earlier, this all might never have happened.

Sighing, he closes his eyes so tightly that it hurts. He doesn't want to think about any of this. Sometimes, he wishes that he just didn't have to think at all anymore. Everything is so much harder without the Force, and it certainly wasn't easy to begin with.

"I'm not sure," Anakin finally answers, just as Obi-Wan knew he eventually would.

"Search your feelings, then."

"You're not my master anymore," Anakin snarls, anger rising as quickly as his calm flees.

"Or perhaps I've just said something that you don't want to hear?" It's quite possible that the idea of looking inside of himself is frightening for Anakin. Obi-Wan... hadn't considered that. Is it possible that Anakin is as angry at himself as he is at anyone else? "Are you afraid of what you might find, Anakin?"

"I know what I'll find. I'm not weak like the Jedi."

"No, I suppose not. But if given a choice of the weakness of the Jedi or the kind of 'strength' you've found, I'd rather be weak."

"Sometimes, Obi-Wan, you need to have a little fire to get things accomplished."

"Truthfully, Anakin, I've always preferred ice. It's far more predictable. Fire consumes almost before a person has time to consider it. It's too uncontrollable—the slightest slip can end in destruction."

Anakin sighs heavily. "Of course you think that. You prefer to be calm and stoic, never showing emotion. You show nothing."

"And you show everything. You wear your emotions—you can't control them."

"Just stop, Obi-Wan," he snaps. "I've already done this tonight—"

"Ah, so that's the real reason for your presence. If this is how you treated Padme, I'm not surprised she found your presence uninviting."

He would never admit how much Anakin's tiny flinch, which he feels against the bed, hurts him. Even now, he doesn't want to inflict pain on Anakin, and that is his weakness. It will always be his weakness. As a master, he cared too much for Anakin's feelings—he shouldn't have indulged his emotions. He knows this, but he still can't make himself stop caring, not even with the way things have become.

"Neither of you understand."

"Understand what? Anakin, I saw the bodies littered through the Temple. I saw a security hologram of you kneeling to Sidious. How can I possibly understand why you did that? Make me understand, Anakin, because I want to know how you could do that!"

"I didn't kill you."

"And that justifies killing everyone else?"

Though he can't see him through the nighttime darkness that curls around both of them, he hears Anakin's harsh exhale of air. The line he's walking is a fine one, and if he's able to make it out of this situation without some display of violence on Anakin's part, he'll be very surprised.

"I don't want to talk about this. I didn't come here to talk about this."

He resists the urge to run a hand through his hair in frustration. "Then by all means, Anakin, set the topic of conversation."

"Has Padme stopped loving me?"

It's such a strange response, and not at all what Obi-Wan was expecting. For so many years, Anakin closed this part of his life off from him. To hear it now—to have it laid before him in such a raw manner—causes something inside of him to ache. If Anakin had brought this to him earlier, perhaps things could have been different.

Perhaps not. He'll never know.

"I very much doubt that she's stopped loving the man you were."

"I'm the same man!"

If he could see Anakin's eyes, Obi-Wan is certain that they'd probably be tinged with red. "Both Padme and I loved the man you were, Anakin. By changing into this—into something neither of us recognizes—I fear you've already lost exactly what you were trying to gain."

Anakin shifts over onto his side. Obi-Wan can't see him, but he knows Anakin is looking in his direction. "What do you mean by that?"

"Why did you turn to the Dark Side?"

"I—I had dreams of Padme dying."

"So, you wanted to save your wife," he says, not really asking it as a question. Anakin doesn't give him an answer, but that's as good as a confirmation. "Anakin, by saving her in the way that you have, you've likely also lost her."

The blankets on the bed fly back, hitting Obi-Wan in the face as Anakin hastily sits up. "Don't say that!" His voice sounds strong, but years of dealing with an adolescent Anakin have taught Obi-Wan to know better—underneath that strength, the foundation is very, very brittle. It's only covers up hurt and fear.

"Anakin—"

"No, Master. Everything I've done, I've done for her. The day after we landed back on Coruscant—the day after she came home from the hospital, I knew I didn't have any other choice. I just—I felt something, something telling me she would have died if I hadn't made the choice I did."

"But are you sure of which choice changed her fate? Was embracing the darkness what saved her? Are you certain it wasn't something else?"

"Yes! I—that day—I just knew."

Yes, Obi-Wan remembers that day as well. It's just that he and Anakin likely don't remember it the same way.

_Padme comes home from the medicenter the day after they land on Coruscant. She's still heavily pregnant, but beyond that, she seems to have suffered no physical repercussions from Anakin's fit of rage on Mustafar. She's very lucky._

_Of course, in other ways, she's the unluckiest of them all._

_"Are you hungry, Padme?" Anakin asks as he helps her over to the nearest couch. It's rather convenient that the first thing anyone encounters when they walk into the Senatorial Apartments is couches. "Do you want anything?"_

_It amazes Obi-Wan how, even when he's offering to help, his voice still possesses that cool undercurrent that has been present since he aligned himself with Palaptine. At times, he's sure that the warm, loving Anakin he knew has vanished. He'd be forced to believe that, except when he's least expecting it, there always seems to be some flash of the so overwhelmingly confident and yet endearingly insecure boy that Obi-Wan knew._

_He has to wonder if he'll ever get that boy back._

_"I'm fine, Anakin," Padme says tiredly. She's hardly even looking at him. In fact, the most she's really done since she was escorted into the room has been to give Obi-Wan a quick, sad glance as she passed by where he's sitting._

_Anakin ignores her lack of enthusiasm. "It's not long now. A few more weeks, and then the baby will be here."_

_Quite honestly, Anakin's enthusiasm at the prospect of having a family is the only thing that keeps Obi-Wan clinging to the hope that there is still good inside of Anakin. If he was completely consumed by the dark side, he shouldn't care for anyone but himself, and even if his fixation on those he cares for is largely one of self-gratification, he does seem to make some small effort to see that they have the things that they want. It's always small—a favorite food, a holonet program-but it's present, and that gives Obi-Wan hope._

_Grinning, Anakin reaches down and lays a hand on her stomach. Immediately, Padme flinches._

_"The baby's kicking," Anakin announces._

_Padme doesn't look at him. "It usually does when you're around."_

_An insult. Luckily, Anakin doesn't seem to catch it._

_"So, do you still think it's going to be a boy?"_

_"I'm not sure, Anakin."_

_He catches her apathy this time, but for some reason he still forces a smile, as though he's determined to make this impossible situation work. This won't end well. Anakin has never liked it when things don't go the way he wants them to, and Obi-Wan is sure that no amount of trying is going to fix this situation to his liking._

_"I still think it's going to be a girl. What should we name her?"_

_For the first time since she's come home, Obi-wan sees a spark of life in Padme's eyes. "I was thinking Leia, if it's a girl."_

_Anakin nods. "That's perfect. And if it's a boy?"_

_"Luke."_

_He nods again. "All right."_

_Luke._

_The name chokes Obi-Wan as effectively as Anakin ever has. That one word alone gives him hope in a way that he was beginning to think dead-in a way that he so desperately still needs to believe in. Just as importantly, it's clearly the same for Padme. He was wrong about her—she hasn't given up yet, not like he'd thought._

_Too late, Obi-Wan realizes that his surprise is tangible in the force. The knowledge isn't helpful; Anakin senses his emotion before he can do anything about it._

_"Does that name mean something to you, Master?"_

_He does his best to look unaffected. "No."_

_"Then why the surprise?"_

_Obi-Wan swallows hard. "I—it was just the name of a man that Qui-Gon and I met on a mission." That won't be enough to make Anakin believe his lie. He'll only believe if it's more difficult—if it seems as though he's discovered something Obi-Wan would rather keep hidden. "The man—he had a vision that ended up coming true. He foretold that Qui-Gon was going to die."_

_A strange combination of pity and surprise intermingle on Anakin's face. Judging by that look, Obi-wan knows he's sold the lie. "Would you prefer we named the child something else?"_

_"No. It would undoubtedly be a good thing to make a bad series of events into something better."_

_Anakin nods and smiles. "All right. Luke it is then." Pausing, he stands up. "I'll get you something to eat, Padme. You're too far along not to be eating right."_

_It's a relief when Anakin finally leaves the room, and once he's gone, Obi-Wan immediately catches Padme's eye. She's looks tired and beaten down, but there's something there in her gaze-something he didn't catch before. She's worn out, yes, but not defeated. She's still got drive left—her choice of name proves that._

_Very slowly, Obi-Wan gives her a small smile. She smiles back, letting a secret knowledge pass between them—a knowledge in which Anakin has no part. Just from the look in her eyes, Obi-Wan knows that's what she wants._

_Quite obviously, she never intended for Anakin to know that Luke means "light"._

Deciding to name the baby "Luke" had felt like a sign from the Force—a clear sign to indicate that the darkness won't save anyone. Whatever events changed Padme's fate, Obi-Wan is certain they didn't originate from the darkness. Perhaps mercy given or a life spared—he'll never know—but he's sure he knows what it's not.

"And if you're wrong, Anakin? If this was all a mistake?"

"It's not!"

"And if it is?"

The bed shifts as Anakin rolls over, sliding off it with a quickness that doesn't really surprise Obi-wan. His former padawan never did like to hear things that didn't suit his needs... and now he has the ability to walk away from any lecture Obi-Wan tries to give him.

Anakin leaves the room without another word.


	5. Part 1: Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **Me, own Star Wars? Heh, don't I wish…

**Author's Note:**

aliceandjasper: I'm glad it was clear that Anakin is still seeking Obi-Wan's approval. That was a major point I was trying to convey. It's really nice to know that it worked.

Kyer: I love this observation: "Anakin never did grow up until he was already dying." Would you mind if I used that line in a future story? And you're correct--Obiwan should be careful of making Anakin angry, shouldn't he? He just can't seem to, though. You're spot on about Padme's feelings, too—that's addressed a few chapters from now.

Thanks to everyone else who reviewed!

**Feedback:** Makes me happy.

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Anakin has never been a morning person. If given the choice, he prefers to sleep late and then stay up far into the night. Oddly, that is something he and Obi-Wan have in common, even if while Anakin was his padawan, his master hardly ever acted on the impulse to stay in bed. To Anakin, that's just another way that Obi-Wan refused to allow his nature to corrupt what he thought the Jedi ideal should be. He always denied himself, even in such trivial matters.

There's some satisfaction to be had in the fact that Obi-Wan has started sleeping late now.

Unfortunately, for Anakin the trend seems to have been reversed. Or maybe that's just because the guest bedroom doesn't feel as warm and inviting as he'd like. Really, nothing other than the bedroom he used to share with Padme would....

After a shower and a few cups of caf, Anakin heads for the Senate building. He's not particularly looking forward to meeting with Sidious, especially since he very much doubts that his new master will approve of his intention to let Obi-Wan live. He'll call it weakness, and Anakin has had enough of feeling weak.

Really, he'd like nothing better than to just be rid of the man he now calls "Master". Even at his most irritating, Obi-Wan was never this bad. Sometimes he was chastising, condescending, and terrible at listening, but there was always another layer to everything he said. Whatever Obi-Wan told him, it was never with the_ intention_ of hurting him—exactly the opposite. He might have been misguided, but the things he did were always to try to make Anakin the best he could be. With Sidious, Anakin never quite knows what he's after, though he is beginning to be sure of one thing: Lord Sidious is only out to help himself. Anakin is only a convenient tool to assist him in getting what he wants.

Anakin has never much liked being a pawn. He's never taken direction well—has never been much inclined to do it at all, really. Direction from Sidious isn't an exception.

Soon, Anakin thinks, once he's gotten what he wants, Sidous will have to be removed.

"Lord Vader."

Sidious is seated at his old desk, and as familiar as the setting is, everything else is different. There's no trace of Palpatine in the creature before him. Now, everything is laid bare. The wrinkled, nightmarish figure before him matches what Palpatine always was on the inside.

"Master," he greets, giving a respectful bow.

Sidious waits for him to straighten up before speaking. "I have been informed that you spared the life of your former master."

Right to the point, though Anakin is hardly surprised. He hasn't been in contact with Sidious since Mustafar, but more than likely, he knew that Obi-Wan was alive far before now. It's precisely why Anakin hasn't contacted him. "Yes."

"Are you certain this is a wise decision?"

"I believe it is, my master."

Sidious looks up at him through his yellowed eyes, analyzing Anakin in a way he never quite did before—at least not visibly. The way he used to be, Palaptine resembled something of a grandfatherly figure. This man before him is nothing of the sort. His skin is wizened and grayed, and there is nothing even remotely comforting about his face.

"Do you? Or do you act on your affection for a man who betrayed your trust? Remember, my apprentice, he would have killed you if given the chance."

Only now is Anakin beginning to see how truly manipulative Sidious is. He seeks to shred whatever trust Anakin still has in Obi-Wan, but an attempt like that—it's ineffective. It has no effect because Sidious is _wrong_. Obi-Wan had the chance on Mustafar, but didn't take it. Of course, Sidious clearly doesn't know that—he is only aware of what commands Obi-Wan had, and knowing that Obi-Wan is first and foremost a Jedi, he assumes that he would have attempted to follow them. Fortunately, he's wrong, and his attempts at manipulation only make Anakin dislike him further.

"I do not believe that killing him is necessary."

"_Necessary_, Lord Vader?" Pausing, Sidious's lips twist into something that could be considered a smirk. "Is keeping him _alive_ necessary? Do you truly think that doing so is prudent?"

"He has no influence on me."

"Search your feelings, my apprentice, and I think you will find that you are not being entirely truthful, either with yourself or with me."

This, Anakin thinks, is why he wants Sidious removed. He doesn't understand any more than Obi-Wan ever did, but there's something about his inability to comprehend that is far more sinister than Obi-Wan's own incompetence ever was. Obi-Wan merely irritated Anakin—Sidious makes him wary.

"Obi-Wan trained and raised me. Though his views are misguided, he is like my father. Killing him would serve no purpose, and I see no reason to do it."

"Allowing him to _live_ serves no purpose—it only presents a danger. He is powerful in the ways of the Force. Underestimating him will only be to our expense."

"He can't touch the Force." Sidious may want him to kill Obi-Wan, but that is something he won't agree to. It's not that he thinks he owes Obi-Wan his life—it's merely that he _wants_ to let him keep it. More importantly, he doesn't want to have to feel the pain of loss again. He's already witnessed his mother's death—he doesn't want to see the death of the closest thing he has to a father. His refusal is as much to protect himself as it is to protect Obi-Wan. "He is as powerless as any other being who is not Force-sensitive."

"You underestimate him."

"I do not believe that I do."

Sidious gives him a small, cold smile. "Your attachment blinds you to his ability to interfere with our plans."

"I will personally insure that he does not."

That cold smile grows. "See that you do, because if he does—if he so much as leaves your apartment—_I_ will have him killed myself."

Anakin pretends that he doesn't feel a shiver go down his back, creeping along his spine until every part of his body seems to feel it. "He will not interfere." Anakin won't let him. He's strong enough to stop anything Obi-Wan might try—he _knows_ he is.

Still, he can't deny the tiny hint of unease that he's feeling. Obi-Wan has worked near miracles before, and if he_ does_ find some way to complicate Sidious's plans, Anakin doesn't want him killed.

"And what of your wife, Lord Vader?" Sidious continues, leaning slightly back in his seat as he studies Anakin. The yellow in his eyes is almost sickening, and as Anakin regards him, he has to wonder if this is what Obi-Wan saw in him on Mustafar. He hopes not. "She must be almost due to deliever."

Anakin nods. "Nearly, my lord."

"It has reached my ears that she is... less than sympathetic to our position."

"She will see things our way soon enough."

"See that she does, Lord Vader," he murmurs, his twisted smile widening with what appears to be malice. "See that she does."

Anakin can hardly fathom how he ever trusted—or respected—this man.

Sensing that the interview is over—or perhaps he's just eager for it to be over—Anakin gives Sidious a deep bow before turning and heading for the exit of the room. He's got too much to think about: his wife is due any day, he needs to figure out what to do to track down the remaining Jedi, and he's already regretting his promise to Sidious about Obi-Wan. He's worked alongside Obi-Wan for years. He _knows_ what he's capable of, and he honestly finds it a little disturbing that he hasn't been worried about anything Obi-Wan might do until now. Apparently, it takes a death threat, which makes no sense, because he should have been just as concerned about his former master escaping before any threat was levied against him. Obi-Wan would be a formidable opponent if he was in control of the Force again—Anakin should have been worried about his escape from the moment that he took Obi-Wan prisoner on Mustafar.

But the truth is, he wasn't.

He's disgusted with himself for being so lax, and while he'd like to attribute his weakness to confidence in his ability to defeat Obi-Wan again if the need arises, he's not sure he can do that. In reality, it's far more likely that it's his own emotional weakness. Now, he's merely afraid that Obi-Wan will die. Before, the worst that could happen was that he'd escape.

He remembers when he first brought Obi-Wan back to Coruscant. The security he'd employed then had been little more than an attempt to irritate Obi-Wan—he'd been confident enough that Obi-Wan's lack of access to the Force, combined with his serious injury and a good security system, would be enough to keep him put.

For the time being, it had.

_"General Kenobi is secure in the apartments, Sir."___

_Anakin gives a half-hearted smile as he addresses the clone trooper on his comlink. "Thank you." It's almost disappointing in a way--he expected Obi-Wan to at least put up something of a fight.___

_Of course, that's probably *exactly* why Obi-Wan didn't.___

_His former master has always been something of a conundrum in that respect. Somehow, he seems to possess the ability to confuse even those who know him best. In fact, not only does he not do what someone might anticipate he will, but he *doesn't* do the exact opposite of that, either. Instead, he does whatever is least expected of the exact opposite. It's so complicated that Anakin can hardly follow it in his own thoughts, let alone in reality.___

_Grudgingly, he admits to himself that such skill is probably why Obi-Wan is a brilliant strategist.___

_It's also why he's a terrible prisoner.___

_"Continue to guard the exits of the apartment until I arrive," he tells the clone trooper after a moment. It won't do any good, he knows--if Obi-wan finds a way to get past the security system that Anakin has installed, he'll be able to get past twenty clone troopers. Still, he knows that Obi-Wan will be annoyed by the gesture--his master always did hate overkill.___

_Grinning, he disconnects the comlink._

Now, Anakin isn't sure how much longer such measures will be enough. His security certainly isn't lax—most people would never be able to get past it. Unfortunately, Obi-Wan is not most people.

Scowling, Anakin realizes he's going to have to rethink a few things if he wants to make sure Obi-Wan doesn't end up with a blaster bolt to the chest.

More importantly, he's going to have to discover why the thought of that possible eventuality bothers him so much.

-------------------------

It's dinner time when Anakin arrives back at the apartments. Just the prospect of being home is a relief and, for the time being, it's enough to quiet the slow-simmering anger that's been present inside of him since he left Sidious's office. That anger seems to be ever-present now—it's just sometimes more active than others. He would like to say that only started after that day in Palpatine's office when everything changed, but the truth is that wearing his feelings of ill-will as readily as he wears his cloak doesn't seem new. In actuality, it feels as though he's been doing it forever.

Obi-Wan would likely tell him that is exactly the problem.

Of course, _Obi-Wan_ is a problem right now. On his way in, Anakin found out from one of the servants that Obi-Wan apparently discovered the extent of the security system today when he attempted to make an unauthorized call on his comlink. According to the servant, his reaction could hardly be termed a reaction at all—he hardly even acknowledged it, other than to lay the comlink aside—but Anakin knows him well enough to be sure that he probably wasn't be pleased.

"Is this how it's going to be, Anakin?"

Obi-Wan is at the kitchen table, eating whatever meal the household droids have prepared. It looks Nubian in origin—maybe he'll try some later, after he's had a talk with Obi-Wan about exactly what will happen if he decides not to do what he's told.

"What do you mean?" he asks, making an effort to keep his voice light and pleasant.

Obi-Wan sighs, but disappoints Anakin by not responding to the question. Instead, sounding tired and a little disgusted, he asks, "Are you_ enjoying_ this?"

That's not what Anakin wants to hear. He's already had to deal with too much today to want to take this on, but there's still something in him that simply won't ignore Obi-Wan's less-than-friendly tone. Instead, he does his best to be just as irritating, because that's what he does in a situation like this—it's what he's _always_ done. When someone aggravates him, his first instinct is to cut them right where it hurts: "What? Controlling you? I'd be lying if I said there wasn't a certain amount of pleasure in it. After all, for years _you_ were the one in charge. I bet you don't like that it's changed."

His words are a less-than-subtle jab, but Obi-Wan hardly even flinches. If anything, his bluish eyes only became harder and more determined.

"I certainly never installed a security system and stationed a squad of twenty clones at the door of our quarters when I left _you_ alone."

"No, but I think there were times you'd have liked to. Remember when I used to sneak out to the lower levels of Coruscant?"

It's meant to be a joke—an attempt to lighten the mood—but Obi-Wan doesn't smile. "It's not the clones that irritate me most, Anakin—we both know I could easily slip by them—it's being completely unable to touch the Force."

"You should be thankful that I'm even allowing you the things you do still have."

Stiffly, Anakin moves across the room and sits down at the table. From here, it's easy to smell Obi-Wan's dinner. Back before, well... just a couple of days ago, actually, Obi-Wan would have most certainly shared. Anakin always did used to steal things off his plate if they looked particularly tasty. His master had complained, but for the most part he'd let him do it.

"I'm thankful to you for nothing about this situation—_you_ created it in the first place."

That comment is a little irritating, and it takes effort to not respond accordingly. He doesn't really want to fight right now, though, and so he only reaches over and steals a piece of meat off Obi-Wan's plate. A quick bite lets him know that he was correct--it _is_ good.

"_Don't_, Anakin."

He isn't prepared for the coldness in Obi-Wan's tone. It hurts him to hear it, and maybe he should simply deal with that emotion on its own, but he doesn't want his former master to see that his comment has had an effect. Instead, he responds how he's always responded when hurt.

He becomes angry.

"It's _my_ food to begin with, Master," he snaps, pushing the chair back so hard that it screeches against the floor in protest.

"Then take it."

Just like that, he's left with a half-full plate of food and an empty table. Obi-Wan is going to walk away from him. Just like that. It's a gesture that gets to Anakin in a way that nothing else could, because deep down, he's always been secretly afraid that, ultimately, Obi-Wan would walk away and leave him. Attachment is forbidden by the Jedi Order, and Obi-Wan... Obi-Wan is the greatest Jedi that Anakin has ever met—not that he means that as a compliment. How can it be when he suspects that if the price were too high, Obi-Wan would leave him, simply because it would be his _duty_ to put the greater good before Anakin?

"Don't walk away from me."

"Oh, come off it, Anakin," Obi-Wan snaps. He pauses on his way out of the room, but doesn't give Anakin the courtesy of turning back around to face him. "You don't have the ability to _make_ me do anything. You've killed off every bargaining tool that you had, and if you think my own life is enough, you'll find you're sorely mistaken."

Obi-Wan always has had a talent for saying the exact opposite of what Anakin wants to hear. The difference is that now it's no longer safe for him to do so. Anakin wants him to know that—to truly understand that things have changed. "I won't kill you, Obi-Wan, but think of all the other people I _could_ kill."

Instantly, the line of Obi-Wan's shoulders stiffens, and even if it's the only evidence that he's even heard the words that are spoken to him, it's still satisfying. It's a _reaction_, at least.

"Friends you made on missions, people who have helped you—even the family you've never met. And think of the Jedi who will be captured in the future. Death can be drawn out for a very, very long time, you know."

There's something almost fascinating about the way that Obi-Wan visibly collects himself and holds his emotions under control, even without the aid of the Force. He's a master of self-control in a way that Anakin could never understand—that he _knows_ he could never understand—but still respects, even as he hates it.

When Obi-Wan does finally respond, his voice is low and clipped, but still the same cultured tone that Anakin used to find comfort in. "What do you want?"

"I think, Master, that you should come sit back down."

Very slowly, Obi-Wan does. He looks Anakin straight in the eye.

"I know you think you're going to find a way out of these apartments," Anakin begins, intentionally letting his voice slip into an almost lulling whisper. Obi-Wan will have to pay close attention to hear, and he _will_, because that's who he is. He will absorb every detail of this—will be forced to at least _acknowledge_ the gravity of the situation. "I know you—I know that if anyone can, it will be you. So, let me be clear with you: _Don't try_. If you do manage to find a way out, Sidious has promised to kill you. You won't make it off Coruscant."

"Sometimes, Anakin, death is not the worst thing that can happen."

"If you end up dying, I will personally ensure that every Jedi who is captured in the future will experience a long, drawn-out, and painful death. I will_ torture_ them, Obi-Wan. I will make their last few weeks in existence as horrible as possible—and that's assuming I ever decide to be merciful and grant them the release of death." He pauses, letting his words sink in before slowly and very deliberately adding, "Really, it would be smarter to stay put."

Anakin knows he's smirking—knows that it's not kind—but he can feel the grudging surrender in Obi-Wan, and he _likes_ that. He's backed his former master into a corner, and he's relishing the feeling. For so many years, this was impossible, and now—now _he_ is the one in control.

Finally.

"If Sidious wants me dead, Anakin, do you truly think any of this is going to matter?"

"He doesn't care if you live—he just doesn't want you to interfere."

Obi-Wan's gaze on his face doesn't waver in intensity, even as he shakes his head and sighs. "He assumes that I will disregard anything you say. However, if by some miracle of the Force, I choose not to, I'm sure he'll adjust his plans accordingly. My escape from the apartment is only an _excuse_ to kill me, Anakin—he will find another reason if his first doesn't work out."

"You don't seem very worried."

"As I said, there are worse things than death."

"Do you want to die?"

"Not particularly. But if it is the will of the Force, I am accepting of that."

An answer like that is so completely Obi-Wan. Anakin can't ever imagine being so passive. The idea of submitting to anyone else's will, even the will of the Force, is difficult for him.

"You won't die, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan gives him a wry smile. "Is that a request or a command?"

"Both."

Sliding the chair back more gently this time, Anakin gets up from the table. He's said everything that he needs to say, and now he just needs some time to think. Some of the things Obi-Wan said—things about how there are worse consequences than death—are, as much as he hates to admit it, worth considering. Without another word, he leaves the room, a myriad of thoughts swirling in his mind.


	6. Part 1: Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **The only time I own Star Wars in is my wildest dreams.

**Author's Note:**

aliceandjasper: They_ are_ good at hurting each other, aren't they? Unfortunately, I think Obi-Wan is sort of justified. Anakin did destroy the entire Jedi Order. I know _I'd_ be having a bad day if I were him. :)

Orphelia Malfoy: I really appreciate all reviews, even if the aren't constructive. I just like to know people are reading. :)

Kyer: Obi-Wan's concern for others always has been his weakness. In ROTS, I always feel so terrible for him when he cuts off all Anakin's limbs. I think in some ways, it hurt him as much as Anakin, as cliché as that is. Poor guy always ends up having to do what his Jedi duty requires, and it never seems to be pleasant.

ObiBettina7: Anakin is a little confused right now. And your bad feeling may just prove to be correct…

Thanks to everyone else who reviewed!

**Feedback:** Makes me a happy person.

* * *

Three days after the visit from the Organas, Padme goes into labor. At the time when it happens, Obi-Wan is in the sitting room, staring out the window at the afternoon traffic of Coruscant. Idling here is quite useless—he isn't considering anything of much importance: merely thinking on the city that has been his home since he was very young, but there's something oddly comforting about watching the ebb and flow of air traffic above the buildings. Coruscant is beautiful in its own way. It's a city that is exactly what it was made to be, but flawed because the beings who built it were imperfect. It's perfect in its imperfections.

Strangely, that reminds him of Anakin before he fell.

"OBI-WAN!"

Padme's voice is sharp, twisted with pain and surprise. The sound alone is enough to spur Obi-Wan into immediate action. Before his name is even fully off her lips, he's on his feet and rushing into the other room where she's sitting on a couch, the holopad that she was reading cast aside on the cushions beside her.

It's her face that cements his worry: it's tight, pinched, and he just _knows_ what she's not telling him, even if he still asks.

"What's wrong?"

Slipping onto the couch next to her, he lays a hand on her arm. She's so pale, and her eyes are as wide as he's ever seen them, big and luminous, catching the light in a way that makes them almost glisten. Her skin—it attracts the light too, shinning with a thin sheen of sweat until it seems soft, almost clammy, and completely at odds with her tensed, quivering lips.

"I—it's time." Her hands clench over her stomach, and she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. "The baby—"

"I'll get Anakin—"

"No need."

Anakin is standing in the doorway, radiating his nervousness palpably through the Force—not that Obi-Wan needs to Force to recognize it. His face is indication enough of what he's feeling. More than likely, he heard Padme's shouts, and Obi-Wan is sure that later Anakin will have complaints that Padme didn't call for _him_, but right now he just looks scared. "Are you all right, Padme?" Slowly, their eyes lock, Padme's gaze searching, as though she so desperately wants to believe that this is her husband. Anakin echos her desperation, but in a way that's so entirely different—that is far more helpless. A fear of loss. It's always loss with him.

Obi-Wan can offer no assurance for either of them.

"Get the transport ready, Anakin," he orders as he hurries over to kneel next to Padme. "I'll get her to the door."

Anakin doesn't move at first. Every line of his body is ridged, except for the muscles of his face, which have gone slack as he gazes at his wife, as though he's trying to memorize the very sight of her. "Yes, Master," he finally replies, words only coming when he finally moves. Good. Obi-Wan was almost certain he wasn't going to.

He is also certain that Anakin has no idea how much he sounds like the padawan he used to be.

_Yes, Master..._

He can't think about that right now. In this moment, he needs to help Padme.

It's an effort to break off his thoughts. It always is, and he has to wonder if some day he won't be able to. Right now, in this moment, it's almost impossible, and only sheer force of will allows him to do it. If he just had the Force, everything would be so much easier, and even as he turns back to her, he craves it—craves the balance it would give him. "Everything is going to be fine."

"I—this _hurts_—"

"You'll be fine. I'm going to carry you to the door now, and then we'll go to the medicenter."

"All right," she murmurs, biting down on her lip hard enough that her words come out slightly slurred. Given permission, he carefully reaches down and slips his arms under her, lifting her up against his chest. She's not heavy, but the wound on his back is not completely healed, and he feels it protest under the strain.

"Everything is going to be all right," he tries to assure her again.

Maybe she believes him and maybe she doesn't, but her hand closes in the cloth of his tunic, gripping so tightly that her knuckles go white and he almost wonders if she's going to tear the fabric. "Promise me, Obi-Wan—promise me that if Anakin's visions do come true—promise me you'll take care of my child."

"You won't die—"

"Promise!" she grits out, grimacing as another contraction hits her. "You have to _promise_!"

And he does, because in the face of this kind of pain coming from a person he respects, he can do nothing else. He agreed when it was Qui-Gon, and he will agree now. It is simply who he is.

"I do."

"Good. And Anakin. Don't give up on Anakin."

"I'm not sure I ever could."

It's true, he realizes as he reaches the same landing platform that he used on the day he came to visit Padme after Anakin had fallen. It's all true. Jedi duty and rules on attachment won't ever be able to change that. He can't give up on Anakin, even if every logical part of him says he should. In that, he fails as a Jedi. What Anakin was to him—it's indescribable, and the memory of the man he once cared so much for will never truly allow him to give up when there's still any hope to be had.

He will keep that hope right up until he is the one to kill it-because if anyone kills it, it will, he knows, be _him_: Anakin is a very great threat, and there is a very real possibility that eventually Obi-Wan will have to be the one to remove that threat. The eventuality scares him—tears him apart, really—and the dichotomy of the situation twists his mind until he can hardly understand it.

All he knows for certain is that it's possible to never lose faith while still being forced to destroy the very thing he has faith in.

In the end, if that happens, he's sure he'll end up hating himself far more than he could ever hate Anakin.

* * *

The day that Padme finally goes into labor is a day that Anakin will never quite forget. From the time that he hears her calling for Obi-Wan—an insult that leaves him furious and hurt—to the time that he gets her to the medicenter, his fear grows into something he can hardly contain. It eats his insides, churning them, and he can barely smother it...

She won't die. She can't die.

He needs her.

Everything around him seems to blur in the face of his fear. There are droids near him, making preparations, and, later, helping Padme through the actual birth; Obi-Wan is somewhere in the background, behind a glass wall; and Padme herself is squeezing his hand as she cries out in pain. He hates how the tears look on her face. The whole situation is far too similar to his dream.

Because he's desperate to change the circumstances of the vision, he doesn't let Obi-wan enter the room until it's all over.

When it is all over, he's left with two—two, which was completely unexpected since they wouldn't let the medical droids tell them anything beyond that the "child" was healthy—beautiful, crying children and a stunning, very-much-alive wife. Padme is alive. Alive. The thought alone makes him giddy with happiness, and the reality... the reality is even better.

Padme is alive, he has two beautiful children, he has Obi-Wan, and he has enough power to make everything the way he wants it. He's going to make a galaxy where truth and justice reign, and even if Padme and Obi-wan don't see that yet, they're going to soon. Everything is perfect.

Absolutely perfect.

"Take Luke," he tells Obi-wan, who he has finally let into the room, as he hands the boy over before reaching out to take Leia from the medical droid. "Look, Padme, aren't they beautiful?"

Padme gives him a weak smile and reaches out to stroke Leia's cheek. She's still very weak, but the droid has assured him that there are no life-threatening problems. She will live. His vision won't come to pass.

"They're perfect, Anakin," she whispers, and for the first time since she came home a week ago, she's smiling at him. "Luke," she murmurs, turning her gaze towards the baby that Obi-Wan is holding.

Obi-Wan clearly understands what she wants, and with a soft smile he moves closer to the bed, leaning over so that she can touch her son. Obi-wan looks so natural holding a child... and where did he learn that? To Anakin's knowledge, the only close contact Obi-wan ever really had with a youngling was, well, _him_, and as far as Anakin can tell, having a nine-year-old sit on your lap is not comparable to holding a baby. Still, he's not surprised—Obi-wan always has been good with beings who need care and reassurance. His presence seems to soothe them.

Anakin remembers that feeling all too well.

Carefully, Obi-wan shifts his hold on the baby until he can place him in Padme's arms. She gratefully takes her child, rearranging her grip so that Luke is settled comfortably against her. "He's so perfect," she repeats, nearly choking on the feeling in her own words. "They both are."

Yes. Perfect. That's the exact word he's looking for. Their family is going to be perfect. Padme, Luke, Leia, Obi-Wan...

Obi-Wan.

Somehow, while Anakin was distracted by Padme, Obi-wan seems to have managed to slip out the door. Anakin catches a quick glimpse of him as he heads out into the hallway. Obi-wan wouldn't dare to try to escape in a situation like this, would he? No, of course not. He's far too noble to leave Padme like this. Even if he does, he won't get far; the clones guarding the medicenter will alert Anakin before that can happen, and even if they won't be able to stop him, Anakin _will_.

Later, he'll deal with whatever Obi-Wan is doing. Right now, his focus is all on his wife. "You did so well, Padme," he whispers, moving over towards the table as he begins rocking Leia, who has started to fuss.

"Luke and Leia," Padme repeats again, smiling softly.

Luke and Leia. His children.

For now, everything is right.

During his time as a Jedi, Obi-Wan has seen many strange things. However, he would never presume to say that he thinks he has seen them all. Perhaps that is why when he sees Senator Bail Organa come to stand at the end of the hallway and give him a pointed look, he feels merely surprised, not startled.

Anakin is occupied with Padme, and while he knows he'll pay for his abdication of whatever unspoken duty had him in the room to begin with—he'll just have to ready a good excuse—he takes the opportunity to slip out the door of the room. Bail Organa clearly isn't here just for a social call. Anakin may have welcomed him into his home a few nights ago, but appearing now—it's a risk. Whatever Bail has to say, it's likely important enough for Obi-Wan to chance retribution.

Not that the threat of Anakin's wrath could cause him to allow himself to mindlessly obey. He won't ever give Anakin that kind of satisfaction.

"I expect that our time will be short," Obi-Wan confides as soon as he and Bail make their way past the doors, effectively hiding them from Anakin's view. There are still clone troopers watching—every one of which Obi-Wan is sure will report directly to Anakin—but at least they're out of anyone's immediate earshot so long as they speak quietly.

"Then I'll be to the point: As I said in my note, Yoda is alive, as are a number of other Jedi. I have seen Yoda myself."

Yes... and that is... nearly overwhelming in its reassurance. He had known that Anakin was capable of lying, but some part of him still entertained the thought that Anakin was telling the truth—that Palpatine had killed Yoda. To hear it straight from Bail—not from ink on paper—is a reassurance greater than he'd like to admit. If Yoda is alive, there's still hope.

"Does he have a plan?"

Bail gives a slight nod. "He's organizing the remaining Jedi. Obviously, there's no hope anymore for a straight-out attack—we're far too outnumbered for that."

Obi-Wan lets a humorless laugh slip past his lips. "Outnumbered. I imagine that we are." Pausing, he forces himself to push down the pain he feels at that thought. "The Jedi that were caught after Order 66? Did he kill them? Anakin, I mean."

"Yes. He didn't tell you?"

"I didn't ask," he admits. Truthfully, he hadn't really wanted to know.

"Make it a point to ask more. He may tell you things that he won't tell anyone else. We need as much information as we can get, Obi-Wan."

He can see where this is going, and suddenly the realization that he gained back at the apartments—the knowledge that he'll never quite give up on Anakin—rushes to the forefront of his mind. What, exactly, _is_ he believing in? And why can't he stop?

"And when I have the information that you hope I can gather, how does Yoda plan to make contact?"

"However he can. I'm sure you'll know when he's trying."

"Like the note."

"Yes, like the note."

"How did you get that to Padme in the first place?"

Bail gives him a wry smile. "I didn't. My wife slipped it to her when they were in the kitchen."

That's clever, though dangerous. Obi-Wan would hate for Bail's wife to get caught, because he knows that Anakin won't be merciful. He'll kill her. He likely won't even hesitate, and the prospect is sickening, but through experience he's learned to control that gut-wrenching feeling. So much experience has been had over the past few weeks.

He... doesn't even feel like the same man anymore.

More than anything, he doesn't want to deal with the situation. He wants to go back to the days when things were simpler, though he can hardly remember when that was. Now, duty is everything, because he has nothing else, and that should be simple, but it's the furthest thing from it.

This, he assumes, is what the Jedi meant when they warned against attachments.

Attachment impedes the ability to do what is required.

"Tell Yoda not to try anything electronic, and nothing at the apartments. I'm sure that Anakin has them completely bugged by now, and his knowledge of mechanical workings is far superior to mine. I wouldn't trust my ability to remove a bug when I know that he could have surveillance set up in five other ways."

Worry flickers over Bail's face. "I'll pass that on."

"And when you get the information you want?"

Obi-Wan doesn't even really need to ask, but Bail's slight quirk of an eyebrow is enough to confirm everything he already knows. "Don't let your ties to Anakin sway you, Obi-Wan. He's not the boy you trained. The man you're living with now is only a shadow of that boy. Now, he's a man who has mercilessly slaughtered hundreds—who has killed defenseless children."

He knows. He can hardly reconcile the two people. Some days, he can't even begin to try.

Sometimes, when Anakin sits down next to him to watch a holovid program, or when they all sit down to dinner, he catches glimpses of the boy he knew. Something inside of him just refuses to believe that boy is gone forever. Wistful thinking? Maybe, but the part of him that eternally hears Qui-Gon refuses to admit that it is so.

Maybe that's why what Bail is saying—what he is implying—is setting him on edge. They're going to try to kill Anakin and, really, hasn't he known that from the start? Yoda had even sent him to do it—he almost had done it. He has always known that killing Anakin is something that will be considered necessary, but hearing it said is as painful as it was the first time that Yoda suggested it.

He forcefully pushes the thoughts aside. Anakin is a great threat. What needs to be done [i]has[/i] to be done.

"I will do what the Jedi decide," he finally concedes.

His hesitation hasn't gone unnoticed by Bail. "If there was any man that I had faith in to do his duty, Master Kenobi, it would be you."

Master. Because that's his duty, and maybe who he is too. For the days he's been living since Mustafar, he's wanted so badly to hear the title "Master" again, because it was familiar—comforting. Now, it only seems a reminder of what he will inevitably have to have a hand in doing.

"We'll be in contact," Bails assures him with a final dip of his head. "Oh, and if Skywalker asks, I was merely here to inform him that a group of younglings—ones that someone managed to smuggle out of the Temple—was found this morning."

Obi-Wan's stomach turns over. "He's going to kill them, isn't he?"

Bail's gaze doesn't waver. "It's what he's done with all the others."

All of them. Anakin has killed more younglings—more than the ones in the Temple. How can Anakin even bear to do it? Killing innocents—it was never something Anakin was inclined to before. Bloodlust wasn't one of his weaknesses, but now—now everything is different.

Obi-Wan is beginning to hate different.

Bail's hand on his shoulder startles him. "He is not the man you knew, Obi-Wan," he says quietly as he turns to leave. "May the Force be with you."

Yes. The Force. Which he can't feel. "Thank you."

With no further pretense, Bail Organa makes his exit, leaving Obi-Wan alone with his own thoughts. It's a place he very much doesn't want to be in.

He's not sure he ever will again.

* * *

Padme comes home the next day. She's still exhausted, and so Anakin puts her to bed with the promise that he and Obi-Wan will watch over the children. She doesn't agree until she hears Obi-Wan's name, something that leaves Anakin feeling irritated and more than a little hurt. She doesn't trust _him_, but she trusts _Obi-Wan_. No one trusts him... _especially_ not Obi-Wan.

Of course, he doesn't exactly trust Obi-Wan, either, which reminds him...

"Why did you leave yesterday?" he asks as he settles down on the sofa next to Obi-Wan. He has Luke in his arms, while Obi-Wan is holding Leia.

His former master doesn't even spare him the courtesy of a glance. "I'm surprised you don't already know."

Naturally, he does—at least as much as it is possible to know from the clones, who he's sure don't have the entire story. "I know you went to talk with Bail Organa."

"I saw him standing beyond the glass wall, and I thought I'd go speak with him. Or is it a crime to speak with friends now?"

Obi-Wan is touchy tonight. Interesting. Usually he hides his aggravation better than this. "And why was he there at all?"

"To deliver a message to you."

"He never gave me any message."

Clenching his jaw, Obi-Wan carefully adjusts the blankets around Leia. Apparently appreciative of the move, Leia reaches out and clumsily curls one of her tiny hands around Obi-Wan's finger. "That's because you were otherwise occupied," he points out, though his voice softens somewhat as he regards Leia. "He gave me the message, although I'm sure another notice was sent to you later. Apparently, he was only trying to follow your orders to tell him about this particular event right away."

Right, and that's... problematic, because there are only a few instances in which he had ordered that he receive immediate updates. Any major uprisings are certainly on the list, as is the capture of any Jedi. Neither of those options are anything he really wants Obi-Wan to know about.

Unfortunately, he's guessing that Obi-wan probably found out about the capture of the younglings.

"He shouldn't have told you."

Obi-Wan finally looks up at him, but what Anakin sees—it's not what he wants. All he gets is pure ice, devoid of any kind of affection at all. He's never had Obi-Wan look at him like this before. "How are you going to kill them, Anakin? Will it be quick? Or will you drag it out, merely because they had the audacity to be Jedi, even if they are hardly old enough to know what that means. Will you do it yourself, like in the Temple? Or are you going to delegate it? How does the great Darth Vader kill those who cross him?"

The simmering anger that's nearly always lurking somewhere inside of him rises to a full boil. Carefully, he moves to set Luke down on the sofa as he stands up. "You're lucky you don't already know."

"Your threats have very little effect on me. If you want me dead, _kill_ me, Anakin."

Obi-Wan doesn't even bother to get up. He's so collected, sitting on the sofa with Anakin's child in his arms, as though he has nothing to fear. Everything about him is cold—even his anger—and Anakin suddenly longs for the times when Obi-Wan would look at him with affection... or, rarely, with something more.

Because even if Obi-Wan won't say it, Anakin knows that Obi-Wan loved him... he possibly even still does. He also knows that Obi-Wan would also likely kill him if he had the opportunity.

As would, he's beginning to suspect, Padme.

"Can't you just be grateful for the fact that I don't want to?"

"Grateful that you chose to spare me when you also chose to kill innocent children and other Jedi? No, Anakin, I can find nothing to be thankful for in such a circumstance. In fact, if I had a choice, I'd gladly exchange my life for theirs."

"Look at your daughter, Anakin," he says stiffly. "In just a year or so, she'll be the same age as some of the children you ordered killed. The ones you're planning on killing aren't much older, either. Tell me, what would you do—what would you feel—if someone killed Luke or Leia?"

The chill that settles over Anakin has nothing to do with the soft night breeze that's drifting in through one of the open windows. "That's different."

"Is it? How is it different?" he asks, still so calm and collected. He's "the negotiator", even now, and Anakin hates that. He hates it. "Were those Jedi children any more guilty of what you perceived to be the crimes of the Republic? Was it their fault that any of this happened? Did they deserve to die any more than your children would?"

"They were Jedi—"

"—Because their parents gave them up to be, yes. You killed babies, Anakin. Some were only a little over a year old, newly initiated. What was their crime?"

They hadn't committed one. He knows he has to concede that, but Palpatine had told him to kill _all_ the Jedi, and he hadn't been considering distinctions.

His train of thought is shattered when Luke begins to cry, obviously having sensed the tension in the room. He's so sensitive to the Force, even this young. Nearly immediately after, Leia's adds her own set of loud, squalling complaints. Through it all, Obi-Wan is completely unshaken, even while trying to bargain for lives with a baby in his arms. It's unbelievable, and yet so Obi-Wan that Anakin wants to punch him.

Except, if he did, he'd be proving Obi-Wan right in all the wrong ways.

He's not sure why that bothers him so much.

Not giving Anakin so much as a glance, Obi-Wan rises from the couch and moves toward the room's exit. "Since you feel the need to check my every movement, I'm letting you know that I'm going out in the garden with your daughter. I think the night air might do her good."

"Fine," he mutters. Why had he killed those children? What had it accomplished? They could have been trained in the ways of the Sith... The rule of two is foolish, anyhow, now that the Sith have taken control, and so they could have been useful...

Useful.

It was such a waste, and...

...and he can't kill the newly captured younglings. He'll have to do something else with them. He claims he's going to bring peace and justice to the new empire, and even if it is necessary for the Jedi to be eliminated, it isn't justice to kill innocent children. If he goes with his original plan, he'll be contradicting the principles that he's declared he's going to bring to the Republic.

"Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan stops at the pillared entrance to the sitting room. He doesn't turn around. "What, Anakin?"

"I won't kill the younglings."

Nothing. Just silence. Obi-Wan only stands there.

When he does finally reply, he still doesn't turn around. Instead, in a voice that sounds remarkably sincere, he murmurs, "Good for you, Anakin... good for you."

There's something in his tone that sounds almost... hopeful.

Obi-Wan leaves without another word. Anakin is left standing by the couch wondering why even such slim praise as that from Obi-Wan makes him feel a warmth in his chest that is so unlike the consuming fire of anger, but, in some odd way, just as good... and quite possibly better.


	7. Part 1: Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **Nope, still don't own it.

**Author's Note:**

aliceandjasper: Haha, I love that image of Anakin as a little child! And, yes, Palpatine is about to play a much larger part in this story.

Kimsa Ki-Lurria: Anakin wanting Obi-Wan's approval certainly is central to this story. As for the chapters not being long enough—trust me, I can relate. I feel the same way when I'm reading stories that I like. :)

Susan Zell: Thank you! :) And, yes, Obi-Wan is experiencing a bit of a conflict of interest.

Anakin T Skywalker: Anakin _is_ starting to come around to some degree, but he's still got a lot to work through. Plus, he might be feeling a little _too_ good right now, considering the state things are still in.

ObiBettina7: Sidious is being Sidious (aka. he's up to nothing good).

Thanks to everyone else who reviewed! I was overwhelmed by how many responses I got for this chapter, which I have to admit is a nice feeling—it's good to know people are reading. Thank you so much!

**Feedback:** Is amazing!

* * *

Padme is still, even after three years of marriage, the most beautiful woman Anakin has ever seen. Granted, he hasn't been around for a lot of those three years, but even if he had been, he's sure that he wouldn't have grown tired of her. It's absurd to think otherwise.

Since they've returned to these apartments, he hasn't shared a bed with her. He's wanted to, but she's rebuffed every single attempt, often times using her pregnancy as an excuse. It's a reason that he's found viable—he couldn't banish thoughts of the babies from his mind. Would he hurt them if he touched her? Would the stress of a fight about it put strain on the babies, too? He hadn't wanted to risk it.

But now the babies have been born, and are safe in a nursery down the hall.

Now, there's no excuse.

After his talk with Obi-Wan, Anakin is feeling a little more hopeful. He's not going to kill the younglings, and he's sure Padme would approve of that. He's not going to tell her, of course—he never told her he was executing children in the first place—but the knowledge that she'd think his decision a good one is enough to bolster his confidence to the point where he decides that tonight will be the night that he sleeps in bed with her again.

"I've missed you," he murmurs softly as he slips in next to her in between the sheets. It feels so good to be back in their bed, among the most luxurious blankets money can buy, next to the most wonderful woman he could ever dream up. Everything about the situation isn't becoming of a Jedi, and, somehow, that makes it all even better. He doesn't have to practice self-denial anymore.

"I don't want you here."

Everything grinds to a halt. No. She can't have said that. He'd expected something of an initial rejection, but not such a harshly blunt reaction. Suddenly, all the luxury in the world can't make him feel more comfortable.

"Padme..."

"You're not the man I married, Anakin, and I don't want to pretend that you are."

"Padme, that's absurd—"

"I think you should leave."

No. Absolutely not. This is his bed as much as it is hers. She just needs time to get used to the idea. They were so happy before, after all. She'll come around.

"I'm sleeping here, and so are you."

She turns over to face him, propping herself up on her arm. The way the moonlight hits her face leaves her looking pale—beautiful, yes, but so pale as to be almost... dead. A lovely, living, breathing—despite the contradiction that presents—version of his nightmare.

It unhinges something inside of him.

"Get out," she says again, firmer this time.

She's not dead—she's _not_. He knows that, but he's desperate to touch her, desperate to make sure she _is_ alive, because some twisted part of him just has to make sure. "I'm not leaving, Padme."

_There's nothing more you can do here!_

_Stay in that cockpit, Anakin!_

_Don't look back._

Everyone he loves could leave him at any time—many _have_ left him—and the thought of losing anyone else is terrifying. He didn't lose Padme in childbirth, and he's powerful enough now to stop that from ever happening. He doesn't need to be afraid anymore—he'll find a way to stop _everyone_ he loves from dying. He doesn't need to be afraid.

But he is. He _is_.

"If you're not leaving, I am," she says curtly.

Anakin loses control.

He can feel his hold on reality shatter, can feel it blow apart just as certainly as he can feel all his carefully constructed plans explode. Since that night in Palpatine's office, he's been telling himself that everything is going to be all right—that he'll _make_ it all right.

Except, nothing is working out like he wants it to. No matter how he tries to manipulate the circumstances, _nothing_ is turning out right.

"NO!"

He can't take any more of this. She _is_ going to do what he wants, because he's just too tired to keep fighting for self-control. He's done reasoning—right now, he's finally going to do what he's intended to do all along.

He _is _going to make things the way he wants them.

Padme knows. Anakin can tell by her face that she knows he's crossed the line into a place where she can't reach him. She knows he's past reasoning with right now.

He can't lose her. The idea of her death terrified him, and now, to realize that even though he saved her life, she no longer wants him—it's too much. He's losing her just as surely as if she'd died.

And he's desperate to bring the situation back under his control, no matter what it takes.

"You _will _stay here!" he whispers, his voice dropping until he knows he's difficult to hear. "You will stay here, and you will accept that I _am_ Anakin. I am your _husband_."

Taking a deep breath, she slides off the bed and begins to back away. There are tears in her eyes. Even in the darkness of the room, he can see that, and the more he looks at her, the more she looks like she did in his vision. She was _crying _in his vision.

A wave of fear floods over him, threatening to drown him.

Slowly, so deliberately and with such strength that he's reminded of the queen she was when they first met, she faces him. There's overwhelming dignity and bravery in her stance, and he loves her even now, even as he hates her for hurting him like this. "You are _not_ the man I love. I will _never_ love someone like _you_."

_SMACK_

Padme flies backward and smashes into the nightstand beside the bed. A glass of water and a holopad go flying, crashing downward as both she and they fall into a heap on the floor. They're just a pile on the floor, not moving, not showing him anything—not _fixing_ anything. What has this accomplished?

Nothing. Nothing at all, and that makes him even angrier.

It takes Anakin a moment to realize that his hand is still out. _He_ is the one who hit her. She's there, on the floor clutching her cheek, because of_ him_.

The power feels good.

He's never hated himself more.

That hate is all he's got right now, though, and he just can't stop it. The darkness is washing over him, coursing through his veins, more powerful than any drug in existence. It feels _good_, so overwhelmingly powerful, and every breath he takes leaves him feeling as though he's on a high. This is the only way to accomplish anything. He will break it all apart, and then he can fix it the way he wants it to be.

Anakin is leaning down and grabbing her by the arm before he even knows what he's doing. She isn't heavy at all—so easy to haul to her feet and slam up against the wall. "You are my _wife_, and I—" What? Love her? It's what he was going to say, but when faced with this situation, the irony of it is just too much. This isn't a situation of love—it's one fueled by pure darkness. "—I hate the way you look at me now. You're supposed to _love_ me!"

"I did!" she screams. "I loved you more than anything, but it wasn't enough for you!" Furiously, she begins to twist against his grip. She's freely crying now, her breath hitching with sobs as tears slide down her cheeks. "You gave up everything for this _power_!"

"No, it was all to save _you_!"

Right now, he hates her. He gave everything for _her_, and she's giving him nothing in return.

"Stop it!" he rages, shoving her back up against the wall. She slams into the harder surface as his hand finds purchase around her neck. The skin there is so soft, and even now he's tempted by her beauty. His beautiful, wonderful wife who he hates and loves and doesn't understand...

He leans down to kiss her.

Seconds later, he's recoiling in pain. Sith Lord or not, he's still male, and she's had self-defense training... not that it would really matter if she hadn't. He hadn't expected that she'd hit him back like this, and he left himself completely open.

Even through the haze of pain fogging his brain, Anakin can hear her footsteps as she tears out of their room. She's yelling for Obi-Wan, whose room is down the hall. If not for the soundproofing of the walls in this room, Anakin is sure Obi-wan would have heard them before now anyway. It doesn't matter. He'll certainly be involved _now_.

Staggering to his feet, Anakin follows. He catches her in the hall, right before she reaches Obi-Wan's door.

"NO!" he bellows, grabbing her again, pulling her back by her arms. _He_ is her husband, _not_ Obi-Wan, and he loathes the idea of her running to his old master for help. She brought Obi-Wan to Mustafar in the first place and she's been far more comfortable with him lately than with Anakin... she even called for him when she went into labor. It's not right, and it's going to stop. "You never listen to me. But you're going to. _Now_, Padme!" he seethes, shaking her hard.

Something rams into his side, smashing _him_ into the wall.

Padme falls to the side as he lets go of her a moment before he hits the ground. From above him, he hears a sharp voice telling her to run, to go stay with the babies. It takes him a moment to realize it's Obi-Wan's voice.

Obi-Wan was the one who hit him.

Furiously, Anakin gets to his feet. "You turned her against me!"

Obi-Wan is standing in the middle of the hallway, dressed in only his sleep clothes. His appearance itself is by no means threatening, but there's something about him—a presence that he's had as long as Anakin has known him—that exudes power and confidence. Then there's the look on his face. It's a look Anakin has seen often enough during the Clone Wars, a look that immediately makes him take notice.

It's how Obi-Wan appears right before a battle.

"I give you the same answer I gave you before, Anakin," he says quietly, in control, even now. "You have done that _yourself_."

No. He won't believe that. "She ran to _you_—"

"Who else _could_ she run to, Anakin? You were _hurting _her. The boy I raised wouldn't have done that. The man who was my best friend wouldn't have done that. Tell me, Anakin, what kind of person are you that _you_ would do that?"

Furious beyond anything he's ever felt, Anakin pulls back and uses the Force to slam Obi-Wan into the wall.

The sickening sound of the wall cracking from the force of Obi-Wan's body fills the hallway. It's followed by Obi-Wan's sharp exhale of air, and then the sound of fabric rasping as it catches when he slides down the broken surface, coming to rest at the bottom. For a moment, Anakin thinks his former master is done fighting. He should know better.

Slowly, Obi-Wan raises his head and meets Anakin's gaze.

"I don't fear _you_, Anakin," he murmurs. "But I do fear what you've become. I fear what it could mean for everyone around you."

"I'm done playing, Obi-Wan. I've tried to be kind—tried to make Padme cooperate with me—"

"She won't ever cooperate with you when you're like this, Anakin. Neither will I."

"SHUT UP!" Another Force push, and maybe it's good thing that Obi-Wan is already sitting, because this one snaps his head back into the wall so hard that Anakin knows he has to be dizzy from it. "I wasn't good enough before, and I'm not good enough now. I never _was _good enough for you."

"You're wrong."

Slowly, Obi-Wan gets to his feet. Anakin can see the pain every movement is causing him—he's probably caused further damage to his wound from Mustafar—as he comes to stand against the wall. "Am I? I never earned your approval when you were my master."

"Or perhaps you were trying to earn something that you already had."

"You're a fool, Obi-Wan."

He's had enough of Obi-Wan's talk. Right now, the only person he wants to see is his wife. Padme _will_ talk to him, and she _will_ accept that he is her husband. Once she does, everything can be right again. He only wants things to be like they should be, and he's so tired of failing to make them that way...

Obi-Wan moves to block him when he attempts to head in Padme's direction. "Leave her alone, Anakin."

"Get out of my way!" He and Obi-Wan will talk in the morning, but right now he needs to work things out with Padme. He'll fix this, too... just not right now.

"No."

He wants to scream, wants to punch something, just wants to have what he_ wants_... "MOVE!"

It would be simpler to use the Force to move Obi-Wan, but there's something so personal about a physical fight. After all those years of training with Obi-Wan, it's incredibly satisfying to turn Obi-Wan's own training against him.

Giving in to his rage, he smashes his fist across Obi-Wan's face.

Somehow, even without a connection to the Force, Obi-Wan manages to anticipate the punch enough to roll with it. He avoids a major injury, but it's enough to send him stumbling to the side, far enough out of the way so that Anakin can walk past. He briefly considers hitting Obi-Wan again, but decides against it; he's gotten what he wants—there's no need to hurt him further.

He instantly reconsiders that when Obi-Wan tackles him from behind, slamming him down to the floor.

He doesn't speak—there are no words to describe what he's feeling. It's all just a pure, blind rage. It's all instinct—all mad hate. He loves Obi-Wan, but somehow he also despises him, maybe even enough to kill him, at least right in this second. It fades moments later, but the boiling anger stays, as does the knowledge that for a few seconds he intended to kill his former master, perhaps more seriously than he ever did on Mustafar.

Determinedly, he pushes the thoughts away as he gets up, blotting with his sleeve at a bleeding cut on his head. He won't kill Obi-Wan, but he _will _make him understand just how foolish he's been, and—

Somehow, his lightsaber has gotten into Obi-Wan's hands.

"Master," he says slowly, every word dripping with a callous amusement, "you can't be serious. After all the times you've seen me disarm someone using only the Force, you think this will work?" How did Obi-Wan even get his lightsaber, anyway? He must have gotten a hold of it when he tackled Anakin...

The lightsaber hums to life in Obi-Wan's hand. Seeing him there in the hallway, his face illuminated by the red of the blade—it seems entirely wrong. Obi-Wan should never hold a red lightsaber.

Obi-Wan doesn't say anything. He merely remains there, facing Anakin, determination written in every line of his face.

Fine. If this is what Obi-Wan wants, then _fine_.

With a wave of Anakin's hand, the already broken wall cracks more and then keeps cracking until the pieces fly free, hurtling towards Obi-Wan. Seeing the attack coming, Obi-Wan raises his red blade, cutting down all but one of them. The remaining piece strikes him in the shoulder, but he only grimaces before straightening back up to face Anakin.

Even if Obi-Wan can't touch the Force, Anakin has to admit that he _is_ still quick.

"Enough of this, Obi-Wan," he snaps, letting his anger course through him—letting it give him strength. "You'll only get hurt."

Obi-Wan doesn't lower the blade. "Do you really want to live this way, Anakin? Can you tell me that you're truly happy like this?"

"Once I've made everything the way I want it to be, I _will_ be happy!" His master has never understood. He _never_ has, and he still doesn't. He probably never will.

A cry of almost incoherent rage tumbles from his mouth as he rushes forward, utilizing speed brought on by the Force to duck Obi-Wan's swing and slam into his former master's body. The impact is enough to send Obi-Wan sprawling backward onto the ground, Anakin on top of him.

The lightsaber flies from Obi-Wan's hand and rolls away to rest on the floor, a significant distance from them both.

"Bad choice, Master," he growls, grabbing for Obi-Wan's wrists. He's able to get one in a firm grip, but Obi-Wan manages to keep the other free, and pulls it back to slam into Anakin's face, splitting his lip. The iron tang of blood immediately rushes into his mouth.

Anakin's had enough. This fight has lasted far longer than it needs to.

It's not so difficult to use the Force to wrap around Obi-Wan's neck, restricting his airways until he's gasping for the breath that he can't take in. It's almost too easy, actually, and perhaps that's why he didn't do it sooner. It somehow feels like cheating.

Anakin gets off Obi-Wan, though he doesn't let him breathe again. Instead, he watches almost impassively as Obi-Wan sits up, his hands around his neck as if trying to find purchase on the invisible hands that are choking him. He can't breathe—he won't until Anakin lets him—but for some reason, he still won't look at Anakin.

He won't beg for release, and that infuriates Anakin in a way he can't explain, not even to himself.

He wants Obi-Wan to look at him with desperation in his eyes.

He wants to see his _emotions_.

"Now, Master, what did you always tell me?" he asks almost insouciantly as he uses the Force to pick up his lightsaber. Grinning, he saunters over to where Obi-Wan is now on his knees, his face red from lack of air. "This weapon is your_ life_." He knows he's being cruel when he holds the lightsaber out in front of Obi-Wan, just a few feet in front of his face, but some part of him enjoys that. It's always somewhat satisfying to turn his former master's own lessons back around against him.

He just wishes that he didn't hate himself quite so much for doing it.

Anakin squats down in front of Obi-Wan, prompting Obi-Wan to finally—_finally_—give him the courtesy of eye contact. "Do you want to breathe, Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan merely looks at him through narrowed eyes, refusing to give Anakin the satisfaction he wants, even now.

"You always were too stubborn for your own good," he mutters, shaking his head. "A Jedi can survive for minutes without breathing—we both know this—but I'm betting you never had the chance to take a really good breath first, so that time is probably less."

Obi-Wan looks away.

"Fine, Obi-Wan, don't ask. It doesn't matter. You know I won't kill you."

He's tiring of his game anyway. Toying with Obi-Wan can be satisfying at first, but it never lasts long, simply because Obi-Wan always fails to give him a good reaction. It was always that way when Anakin was a padawan, and nothing has changed since then. Obi-Wan just refuses to allow himself to be baited, and Anakin _hates_ that.

Anakin ignites his lightsaber at the same moment that he stops choking Obi-Wan. He's finished one plan, but a second is already beginning, and of chief importance is that Obi-Wan doesn't get a chance to start fighting again. Because, given the chance, he will fight. Obi-Wan will never surrender without first exhausting all of his options.

Almost the moment the hold is gone, Obi-Wan gasps for air, taking in great gulping breaths, as though he thought he'd never get to again. Anakin has to wonder if Obi-Wan really did entertain that possibility.

It was probably hard not to.

"Get up. Now, Obi-Wan."

"L-Learn a little p-patience, Anakin," he murmurs, his breathing labored. "It's hardly easy to stand when you've just begun breathing again." After a few more seconds pass, Obi-Wan does stand, his eyes flickering down to the red blade before they return to firmly fix on Anakin's face. "So, what happens now?"

"Are you so certain that something else _will_ happen?"

"I know you too well to assume that it will not."

Anakin feels his lips twist into a smirk. "Follow me."

Obi-Wan was never stupid, and while he never surrenders if he has any other options, he is also intelligent enough to know when he doesn't have any. He will wait until the circumstances are more in his favor. Anakin isn't sure if that's a true surrender, but for now it serves his purpose. For the time being, Obi-Wan will do what he says.

With one last glance at the saber in Anakin's hand, Obi-Wan follows him, just as Anakin knew he would.


	8. Part 1: Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: **No, but I sure wish I did.

**Author's Note: **

badkidoh: That's a very good point about Padme. I guess that I'm writing her as someone who has gotten to the point where she no longer wants to try to work things out—she's been hurt too much.

aliceandjasper: Yes, Anakin has a habit of making a gain and failing spectacularly somewhere else, doesn't he? *sigh* Some of his lines honestly remind me of a teen in the adolescent rebellion stage, even though he's supposed to be in his twenties.

priscalthum: I'm really glad you noticed that! That bit was actually one of my favorite parts, because I just thought it seemed so like Obi-Wan. I'm happy you thought so too. :)

Kimsa Ki-Lurria: Yes, Obi-Wan as a Sith would be just scary. That might be a fun thing to try and write sometime, though. Hmm, you're giving me ideas…

Anakin T Skywalker: Hahaha! Too right! Anakin_ is_ a rather destructive guy, isn't he?

Kyer: Nope, this isn't slash. I see Anakin and Obi-Wan's relationship as that of father and son or possibly bothers.

Thanks to everyone else who reviewed!

**Feedback:** Keeps me from turning to the dark side! :)

------------------------

This is not how Obi-Wan hoped to take his first steps back outside. Ideally, he would have liked the event to occur in a way that granted him complete freedom; at the very least, he would have preferred a situation not so full of hostility.

Most importantly, he would have liked to do it without Anakin's lightsaber pointed at his back.

"Where are we going?" he asks as they step out into the cool night air.

Anakin, who has had the foresight to grab his cloak before they left, wraps it tighter around himself. "I told you that if you attempted to leave the apartment, I'd make sure you regretted it. Now, am I correct in assuming that, had you succeeded tonight, you'd have left the apartment?"

"Anakin, you_ hit_ your wife. What was I supposed to do?"

It's a fair point, but it seems that Anakin isn't willing to concede that. "I'm going to assume that you would have. Therefore, I'm also going to assume that you didn't take my threat seriously." Glancing over at Obi-Wan, he quirks an eyebrow and adds, "And you _know_ that I hate it when people don't take me seriously."

"Anakin, _listen_ to yourself—"

"I AM LISTENING!"

So much anger. Even without the Force, Obi-Wan can see it, especially now that he's stopped moving, preferring to solely concentrate on his former padawan instead. Anakin's eyes are tinged with red again, making him appear almost like someone from the lower levels of Coruscant who is strung out on whatever the drug of choice is now.

Except, Anakin's drug of choice isn't anything artificial. No, he's high on hate and anger, which are as potent as any drug, and just as destructive.

As Obi-Wan watches him, the nightlife of Coruscant continues to flow around them, ships and bright lights and people going home to their families, so normal that he can't imagine how it can still be the same when everything else has changed. Right now, seeing Anakin silhouetted against the backdrop of the world where Obi-Wan has grown up, he realizes with absolute shattering certainty that nothing will ever be the same again. This thing that's so out of place, now in conjunction with everything that's familiar to him—it's the new normal.

_This_, he realizes, is why attachment is bad.

Attachment hinders a Jedi, but he's still never been able to fully put it aside. It all started with Qui-Gon, back when he finally found someone to care about him. All his life, he'd been just one of many padawans, and then to be suddenly singled out—to have one master whose attention was solely on him—left him completely confused.

Most any master other than Qui-Gon would have likely noted his propensity for forming attachments and would have admonished him for it. Instead, Qui-Gon took it as part of who he was, warned him against it, but never did anything to make him defeat that weakness. Only now is Obi-Wan beginning to see that Qui-Gon never reprimanded him for it because he himself was plagued by the same thing. It would have been hypocritical for him to lecture, and though Qui-Gon was many things, he was never a hypocrite.

In so many ways, Qui-Gon was the perfect master for Obi-Wan. He was his equal, his opposite, and his balance—much like Anakin also became for him. They complimented each other perfectly.

But as far as teaching him not to become attached, he was one of the worst possible examples.

Or, perhaps, he was the will of the Force.

Perhaps he _led_ Obi-Wan to the will of the Force, as painful as it is.

_The smell of cooked flesh hangs heavily in the air as Obi-Wan clutches his master's cooling body. Qui-Gon is dead. It doesn't seem possible, and he doesn't want to believe it—he hardly can. This man is everything to him—he's like his father. He can't lose him._

_Gasping for the air that holding back his tears has driven from his lungs, Obi-Wan presses his face into his master's chest and gives in to his sobs. He can barely breathe—his chest is burning--but if feels good, feels so right when his master will never breathe again. He's not even sure he wants to keep breathing, either._

_"No-o-" he chokes out, letting his fingers smooth over his master's chest, down to the wound. It's bleeding, though not much. It's just enough to stain his fingers red with blood that will soon cool._

_Soon, Qui-Gon will be completely gone._

_"No, M-Master," he sobs. Every word seems to get stuck in his throat, choking him._

_He had never known it was possible to hurt this much._

Anakin's sharp voice startles Obi-Wan out of his memory. He's begun talking again, or perhaps he never stopped—regardless, he's gaining momentum, working himself up to a crescendo that Obi-Wan is sure won't have favorable results.

"_You_ stop and listen to me, Obi-Wan!" Anakin seethes, coming closer, everything about him suddenly completely predatory. "Things have changed. Stop clinging to a way of life that will soon be dead!"

Anakin words are unsettling, and Obi-Wan needs the Force—needs it so badly that he feels like the strung-out man he'd imagined Anakin to be just moments before. He can't release any of his emotions, and they're clouding his mind, leaving him feeling shaky and sick... almost insane.

Thankfully, Anakin is too caught up in his own rage to notice.

"Or what? I'll die with it?" Obi-Wan quietly challenges, refusing to drop Anakin's gaze. He won't ever back down from Anakin, even if it costs him his life.

Anakin returns his gaze with equal determination. "No. Or people you care about will die _for_ you."

"If that's what it takes, Anakin. Sometimes, as much as it hurts, sacrifices have to be made. If it comes down to a choice between those I care for and the well-being of the galaxy, I know what I will have to choose. I can't sacrifice everything to save only a few people."

Anakin's mouth quirks upward, so complacent that it's sickening. "I wonder if you'll be able to make that choice if actually _faced_ with their suffering. After all, you couldn't kill _me_."

The reference to his past failure is like a slap, and he turns away, voluntarily heading for the speeder that's waiting on the landing platform. He doesn't know where they're going, and he suspects it won't be pleasant, but right now anywhere is better than here next to Anakin.

He gets into the speeder.

-----------------------------

Anakin finds it perfectly ironic that the captured Jedi and other enemies of the empire are being housed in the detention level of the Jedi Temple. For so many centuries, the Temple has been a center of learning for the way of life that Anakin has come to abhor. To turn it into the very place where that way of life is being eradicated leaves him feeling smugly satisfied. After all, it had been his idea in the first place—Sidious had merely made the arrangements.

Obi-Wan, whose hands are now bound securely in front of him with a pair of shinning durasteel cuffs, looks far less impressed by his choice for the detention center than Sidious had. There's a faint air of disgust hanging about him, clinging to him with a thickness that Anakin isn't used to.

"You can't be serious, Anakin," he murmurs as they make their way past a pair of clone troopers standing guard at the end of one of the hallways.

"Oh, I am, Obi-Wan, I _am_." He's never been more serious. The Jedi way of life is _over_. It's somewhat fitting, don't you think?"

Obi-Wan doesn't respond, but that's all right—Anakin didn't expect him to.

They both fall silent as they move together down the hallway, the only sound coming from the rhythm of their feet when they walk. The noise echoes off the surfaces of the corridor, as cold and hard as the colors and building material of the structure itself. There is nothing warm about this place. This is a place of misery and punishment.

Instinctively, Anakin tries to match his gate with that of his former master's, not liking the incongruity of the noise of their footsteps when they're not in sync—it's a habit he picked up as a padawan, and it lingers now. It's strange how some things never seem to fade. Always the strangest things, too....

"The detention blocks, I presume?" Obi-Wan asks tiredly.

"Yes."

A chill hangs in the air as they descend further underground. Anakin has never noticed the drop in temperature before, but it doesn't exactly surprise him—the Sith aren't nearly as inclined as the Jedi to make sure that their prisoners are reasonably well-treated. It wouldn't be much of a shock to find out that Sidious is choosing not to waste the heat it takes to ensure that their prisoners are warm.

"We discovered his treachery when we found him sending an unauthorized communication. The content was suspicious, and with a bit more investigation, we were able to discern that the intended recipient was not legitimate," he informs Obi-Wan. The front wall of the cell they stop in front of is an energy field, red in color, and impenetrable. It casts everything around it in a sanguine glow, a living metaphor for the entire situation.

Through the energy field, a figure is easily visible.

The figure—a male—is sitting on the floor against the wall, his eyes closed. Bruises mottle his face and bare chest, and a few of the cuts on his skin are infected. He clearly hasn't cleaned up since being brought to this place, which would, aside from giving a reason for the infections, also explain his dirty hair and face. Nothing about him looks well-kept. Even his muscle tone has started to atrophy, and while Anakin knows that he's been fed while imprisoned—minimally, of course—he's still lost weight, and his ribs are beginning to protrude against the skin stretched thinly across them.

Obi-Wan eyes slowly flutter shut, his eyelashes ghosting over his cheeks, but beyond that he shows no other emotion. Nothing. Nothing at all. "This is cruel, Anakin."

"Is it? I prefer to think it's just necessary. We think he has information on the whereabouts of other Jedi."

"Do you?" Obi-Wan looks vaguely ill as he turns away from the energy field. "Is it necessary to have_ me_ see this?"

"You wouldn't take me seriously otherwise. Besides, it would still be happening even if you weren't here to see it. Are you trying to hide from things you don't want to know, Obi-Wan? That's not like you."

"None of that makes this _necessary_." His muscles tense as he turns back around, a flash of emotion skittering across his face. It's almost a relief to see the crack in his emotionless facade... and Anakin is so sure it's a facade. Obi-Wan is working hard to suppress what's really underneath, but it has to come out eventually, because Obi-Wan, for all of his remarkable abilities, is still _human_. "When did you become this cruel?"

"I've just told you: this is not cruelty, this is _necessity_. Just like you, Bail Organa is an enemy of the Empire."

"And, yet, he's sitting in a cell, clearly having been beaten, while I am not. You know I've been in contact with him, Anakin. You're smart enough to have figured that out; why is he alone receiving this kind of treatment?"

"Because you raised me, while he _did not_," he replies, almost lightly. Obi-Wan just doesn't seem to understand that Anakin still cares for him—he would have killed him long ago if he did not—and that such affection gives him privileges that others don't get. Anakin would like to make him understand, but he's not quite sure how to, especially when he's not really certain he understands it himself.

All that he really understands is that Padme and Obi-Wan are important, and that he cares for them. Everything else is blurry and indistinguishable and, honestly, he's a bit apprehensive at the thought of straightening it all out.

He's afraid he might not like what he finds.

"I want to speak with him."

"Sadly, that won't be possible."

Obi-Wan shoots him a glare. Yet another crack in that facade, Anakin notes. Interesting. Is he getting to Obi-Wan? He certainly hopes so. "I'm sure it's _possible_. You're simply choosing not to let me."

"And that should be enough."

"Enough? Anakin, you of all people would not know what 'enough' is!" The volume of his voice rises, letting a bit more emotion slip through. A little more maybe, and it just might be evolve into a shout....

"Don't push me, Obi-Wan. Haven't you had enough yet?"

"I'VE HAD ENOUGH FOR A LIFETIME!"

Passion, pain, anger—the magnitude of Obi-Wan's emotions slam into Anakin, powerful and poignant, like the huge waves he's seen on water-filled planets. He can feel those emotions in the Force, a raw bundle of power and hurt and desperation, like a breaking point he never quite knew his former master had.

"You have killed my friends, destroyed the Republic, and have torn down everything I worked my entire life to build! Everything I ever gave you, you've thrown back in my face!" Obi-Wan's breath is coming sharply, and the intensity in his eyes is overwhelming. Anakin knows the story of Qui-Gon originally rejecting Obi-Wan because his anger was too prevalent, but these emotions are stronger and more powerful than any that Anakin has felt from almost anyone else. Obi-Wan has a great deal of raw power—more than probably either of them ever realized. "You destroyed everything that ever mattered! Even Qui-Gon's dying wish—you took that too, and look what you didwith it!"

No.

No, that can't be right. It can't be, but it still _hurts_, because the love Obi-Wan felt for Qui-Gon—it was the same love that Anakin feels for his own former master, and what Obi-Wan is saying now, it sounds like... "You didn't want me."

The more he thinks about it—about that hurt—the more he can feel his temper rising. Everything except his anger suddenly feels so numb. It was a lie. Everything was a lie. Obi-Wan never wanted him. Never, not _ever_....

Obi-Wan fixes him with a look of pure disgust. "No, Anakin, I loved you. I resented you at first, but I grew to love you, and when I did, it was unshakable. Now I wonder if I might have been better off with my first mindset, and it kills me that I can't turn back now, because even after all you've done, I _still_ love the man you were."

The man you _were_. Anakin has tried so hard to put things back together as he wants them, and all he manages to do is make them spin more out of control. No one wants him now, no matter how hard he tries, and he despises that about Obi-Wan. He wants Obi-Wan to love him _now_. He wants Padme to look at him the way she used to. He wants both of them to care like they did back when he was a Jedi, and because they won't, he's losing control.

Except, it's not their fault, and he knows it.

It is _his_, and he hates them for making him realize that.

He hates them for making him realize that he'll never hate anyone any more than he hates _himself_.

"I'M THE SAME MAN!"

Now, more than anything, he wants Obi-Wan to look at him and tell him that everything will be all right. Obi-Wan used to fix everything, and why won't he just assure him that he still cares? Why can't he just _do_ that?

Why couldn't he have ever done that, plain and simple?

"YOU'RE NOT THE SAME MAN!"

And, he's not.

He's not the man he was, and apparently neither is Obi-Wan, who is suddenly inches from his face, teeming with emotion he never showed before. His eyes are sparking with pure, _raw_ feelings. It's beautiful. It's absolutely stunning on Obi-Wan, simply because Anakin has never seen it, and he's always been most mesmerized by the things he hasn't seen or can't have.

"You are not the boy I raised!" Obi-Wan shouts, staring him straight in the eye, straight in the _face_, as if he'll never back down. And he won't. Anakin knows him, and knows that he will never do that. It's simply not a part of who he is. "You are not the child I always made lunch for, or who I taught to use a lightsaber, or who insisted that I put every test you got a decent grade on up on the cooling unit! You are not that boy, because that boy was loving—he was caring. You are neither! I don't have any affection for the creature you've become."

Anakin's anger twists—growing, morphing—as it's aggravated by the desperation for everything Obi-Wan has just verbally denied him. He's getting emotions, yes, but it's not the unconditional affection and love he's always craved but never really visibly received from anyone but his mother. Obi-Wan loved him, Padme loved him, but with the former it was always buried, and with Padme it seems to have slipped away. Only his mother ever freely gave what he needed.

Obi-Wan was everything to him after he left his mother. _Everything_, and to hear that—to hear that the man who's like his father doesn't want him cuts him deeper than he ever thought possible, right to the core, right to where it hurts _most_. He's lost everything. In an attempt to gain it, he's lost it, and he suddenly wants Obi-Wan to hurt just as much as he himself does right now.

But nothing he can do to Obi-Wan will hurt enough. The only thing he can do to cut him that deeply is to hurt someone else.

Carefully, he concentrates on the prisoner inside the cell, wrapping the Force tightly around his neck. He begins to squeeze.

He knows the moment Obi-Wan realizes what's happening. All the anger seems to bleed out of him, something far more desperate quickly replacing it. "Anakin. Anakin,_ stop_," he whispers, his voice strained and almost sick. "Anakin, don't hurt him because you're angry with _me_!" His face pales more by the second, finally becoming almost ghost-white as he steps in front of Anakin, as if cutting Bail out of his sight will somehow stop him from using the Force.

"We both know this is the only way to hurt you." He can hear the ice in his voice, just as clearly as he can see its effects on Obi-Wan's face.

Good. He hopes it hurts. He hopes it hurts worse than anything Obi-Wan has ever felt, and how lucky was it that he received a message from Palpatine on the flight here, informing him of Bail's whereabouts and betrayal? Originally, he'd only intended to show Obi-Wan a few Jedi prisoners that he hadn't known well, but this—this is so much more personal. Obi-Wan made it that way when, as Anakin has come to suspect, he attempted to work with Bail against the Empire. The visits at the apartment—that must have been what they were for. Obi-Wan was trying to betray him.

Disgust wells up inside of Anakin as he thinks on how he was actually concerned about Bail's disappearance.

Filthy traitor. And he would have brought Obi-Wan down with him…

It doesn't matter. Bail is the only one incriminated in this mess. Sidious will never have to know that Obi-Wan was involved. He has no proof. Anakin will make sure of that.

The pain flickering in Obi-Wan's eyes draws Anakin back to the situation at hand. "Force, Anakin, you really _are_ gone."

Anakin intends to reply. He'll say something harsh, naturally, something biting or scathing; only he's stopped by the look on Obi-Wan's face. His eyes have suddenly glassed over, and he looks as though he's seeing... well, nothing, really. He's staring at nothing.

"What's wrong with you?" he snaps, more harshly than he feels. His anger is already dissipating in the face of this new and odd turn of events. "Obi-Wan?" he asks, his voice evening out as worry sneaks into it.

In his cell, Bail begins to breathe again.

A tiny cry drifts out from between Obi-Wan's parted lips. Then a louder, more pained "No". There's something in his expression that's so worrying. Whatever he's seeing, it's not centered in the present, and Anakin is starting to realize how wrong everything is. This isn't Obi-Wan.

This is what Padme was talking about, he realizes, and, suddenly, Anakin would give almost anything to know what Obi-Wan is seeing. His anger slips away as that desire grows, until it's hardly there at all—until it returns to being merely a presence lurking just under the surface but not in sight.

"What are you seeing?" he murmurs, reaching out and gently taking Obi-Wan by the shoulders. "What is it that you're seeing?"

Obi-Wan flinches away from his touch. His lips move silently, forming words that never come to fruition, and that Anakin can't decipher.

Then, he screams.

"Obi-Wan!"

It's chilling. Absolutely chilling, right down to a place Anakin didn't even know he had anymore until right now—until he feels that noise scrape against it, loud and raw and painful. Obi-Wan has never sounded like this, and Anakin hates it—can't stand to hear it. It _scares_ him.

Faster than Anakin could ever anticipate, Obi-Wan collapses back against a wall. His eyes are open, but there's no sight in them, not even as he slides down the wall to slump on the cold ground. He's just... silent. So far away.

"Obi-Wan?" Obi-Wan will answer soon. He _will_, because he is always the strong one. He's the one who held Anakin together.

He's the one that, even now, won't give in.

Obi-Wan opens his eyes.

Relief as real and intense as the heat of Tatooine's suns washes over Anakin. "What did you see?" he demands immediately, sliding down onto his knees next to Obi-Wan. The coldness of the floor sinks in through his clothes and to his skin, but he hardly notices as he searches his former master's face for some trace of the man he's familiar with. "What was that?"

"I—it's a memory, Anakin." The words come out as a whisper, making Obi-Wan seem tired, almost ill. "Only a memory."

"Of what?"

"A friend who died in my arms. A friend I saw die."

A friend he saw die. A friend like Bail, who he would have seen die also.

"Who?"

"A girl named Cerasi."

"Melida/Daan?"

Obi-Wan grimaces, his mouth thinning into a straight line under his beard. "Don't presume to care. I'll be fine."

"I _do _care," he replies a little more fiercely than he intends.

"Do you?" There's a subtle denial, but it's so weighed down with weariness that it's hardly even close to anything resembling defiance. "If you really care, Anakin, just take me back to the apartments. I don't want to see anymore of this."

That he can do. That he _will_ do. He's truthfully beginning to wonder why he ever thought this was a good idea in the first place.

"Thank you," Obi-Wan mutters absently as Anakin helps him to his feet. He doesn't shiver at the contact of their hands, of skin on skin, but it's a near thing—he quite clearly has no desire to be touching Anakin. It's also very obvious that he's determinedly not looking at Bail.

Anakin has to wonder if it's because he just doesn't want to know, if he's afraid he won't be able to hold back the memories if he does, or if it's a combination of both.

He rather thinks it's the latter.

"He's not dead, Obi-Wan. And I won't kill him."

Anakin supposes that it's hesitancy and the need for information that stalls Obi-Wan's steps. "Will you let him go?"

"You know I can't do that."

"Can't? Or won't?"

"Both."

There's still stress evident in the hard line of Obi-Wan's shoulders—in the tight set of his neck—but something overshadows it. It takes Anakin a moment to realize that it's sadness.

"Follow me," he says quietly, purposely brushing past Obi-Wan. It's not that he's particularly eager to go back to the apartment—he's certainly not looking forward to settling things with Padme, though he's not sure he'll even attempt that tonight—but the longer he stands here, the more Obi-Wan's emotions cause something in his gut to twist and clench. He doesn't like or understand the feeling, and all he can think to do is run from it. The sooner he gets away from Obi-Wan, the better.

Anakin takes a deep breath as he leads the way out of the chamber. Obi-Wan falls into step behind him, his footsteps hard on the harsh gray surface of the floor. Just hearing those footsteps keeps Anakin from allowing his emotion to slip away, because Obi-Wan is still here—his emotions are still filling the space around them, leaving Anakin to flounder in the sea of confusion that they create.

Sometimes, he wonders if he's really as far gone as Obi-Wan thinks.

Because if he was, he can't imagine that he'd feel so guilty.


	9. Part 1: Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: **No, sadly. But wouldn't it be fun if I did?

**Author's Note:**

Prismatic: Thank you so much for all your reviews! I appreciate it very much! I also kind of like the idea of a dark Obi-Wan. It would be a challenge to write him that way without losing who he is. I'm starting to get plot ideas, so I don't know, we'll see. :)

Hazelcloud: I agree with you: I always thought that if Obi-Wan lost control it would be frightening. How could it not be when he's always so tightly restrained with his emotions? Take away those restraints and… yikes. I'm glad you liked how I did it, though!

ObiBettina7: Padme and the twins are still back at the apartments. She didn't escape—Obi-Wan just found a way to distract Anakin.

aliceandjasper: Anakin really is going to start making progress now. Seeing Obi-Wan lose it like that unsettled him enough to make him begin to doubt what he's doing.

Anakin T Skywalker: Hahaha! Anakin throwing tantrums! He can be rather like a teenager still, can't he?

Thanks to everyone else who reviewed!

**Feedback:** Is a wonderful thing! :)

* * *

"Would you kill him?"

Startled, Obi-Wan looks up from where he's reading the morning holonet news on his datapad. "Pardon?"

Padme regards him with an unnerving sort of conviction. It worries Obi-Wan; it's too early in the morning for this sort of talk, especially when he's not even sure he'd have answers at a more optimum time. Last night was... just too much, and it's too soon to rehash it all.

It's too soon to even really acknowledge that he'll eventually have to.

"Now, I mean. If you had the chance, would you kill Anakin?"

"I hardly think it matters anymore." It's a bad lie, and he winces as soon as he's told it.

Padme is sharp—she catches his hesitation and regards him with a raised eyebrow and thinned lips. "We both know that's not true." From where she's cradled in her mother's arms, Leia gives a fussy cry. "It matters more than ever."

"Can we talk about this some other time?" he asks, scrubbing a hand over his face. Force, he's so tired, so emotionally worn down. How long can he possibly continue like this? How can he keep going when events such as the previous night are still occurring?

Honestly, he would like nothing better than to forget everything about last night. Even after he and Anakin had come home, he hadn't been able to banish the memory of Bail on the floor of his cell, huddled with his knees to his chest, trying to keep warm. Just the thought alone is enough to make him want to vomit—not that he thinks there's actually anything left in his stomach. He took care of that all last night when his memories tormented him to the point of physical sickness.

Padme's sharp gaze never wavers, and this, Obi-Wan thinks, is why she was such a successful politician. She wasn't like the rest—she hadn't needed to be. This frank, blunt stare is enough. "No. You can't keep avoiding a decision about where your loyalties lie."

"My loyalty is with the Jedi Order. That was never in question."

"So if you still had a lightsaber, and you had the opportunity to kill Anakin and end all this, would you?"

The very idea of the conversation they're having is completely surreal. They're having it in _Anakin's_ home—a conversation about killing _Anakin_, and they're having it _in his home_. "Padme, are you aware that Anakin has likely found a way to listen to every word we say?"

She shrugs. "It's not anything he doesn't already know. I'm sure that he thinks you'd kill him. He still cares about you anyway, at least as much as he's truly capable."

"That doesn't mean you need to confirm his suspicions for him."

"Honestly, I don't really care anymore."

"Don't say that." Exhaling harshly, he looks down at Leia. "You have too much to live for."

"Do I? When my children get older, can you promise me that I won't have to see them trained to follow the darkness that took my husband from me? Do I truly want to see that, Obi-Wan?"

No, he can't say that if he were in her place, he would. He's not in her place and he _still_ doesn't want to see that, because these children—they might as well be his own. He cares that much, even if he knows he shouldn't.

He always has been rather inclined to form attachments, after all.

"You wouldn't kill him, would you?" she asks after a few moments. "Even after everything he's done, you wouldn't kill him."

And that-it's _not_ a question. Just a statement of a fact that she finds simple and obvious.

Maybe she's right. Obi-Wan's not even sure anymore. In fact, the only thing he _is_ sure about is that he doesn't want to think about what he would or wouldn't do in regard to Anakin.

He's afraid he won't like the answer.

"I don't know what I'd do."

"Yes, you do. You just don't want to admit it to yourself. You don't want to admit that this is one situation where you might not be able to do what the Jedi Order requires of you."

"Padme, he's like my brother... like my son. I raised him. I love him."

It's that simple. Just that simple, and hearing the words—it makes it real in a way that it wasn't until he spoke it.

She smiles wryly, her eyes tinged with weariness. "I'd kill him, you know."

"I know."

"I loved him as much as you ever did, Obi-Wan." Pausing, she sighs and begins to gently rock Leia, easing her gently back and forth until the baby begins to make happy cooing noises. It's almost stunning to see a shade of joy in the midst of this situation, and Obi-Wan finds that it's difficult to look away—he craves that glimpse of a simpler time. "I truly did love him, but the love between a husband and a wife—it's different. That kind of love can sour and turn into anger. But the love a father has for his son—that never dies. Parents, if they were ever any good to begin with, don't stop loving their children. And you were a good parent, Obi-Wan."

"I'm not his parent, Padme."

Slowly, she levels her face up until their gazes meet. So many emotions churn in her eyes, dark and deep, but not angry—not in the way Anakin is. Just... sad. "Yes, you are. And we both know that, even if I can never love him like I did before, you always will-love him like you did before, that is."

"I don't believe that you've stopped loving him."

"After what has happened, Obi-Wan, it will never be the same. I will _always_ love him, but that love is too intermingled with pain and resentment now for things to ever be right again. You can love someone and hate them at the same time, you know."

"You don't hate him." There's too much hate already. He doesn't want to see more created.

"Part of me does," she admits, still fixing him with that exhausted smile. "Part of me loves him, part of me hates him, and part of me doesn't know anymore. All I do know for sure is that he's not the man I married, and even if he became that man again, I could never truly go back to seeing him that way."

"So you just walk away?"

She laughs bitterly. "Oh, Obi-Wan, you of all people should know that no one will walk away from this."

"No," he murmurs, "I suppose that you're right."

Padme doesn't know just how right she is. No one will ever be the same after all of this, and the more decisions he makes, the more Obi-Wan wonders if he'll be able to handle the fallout. Everything he does seems to lead him closer to an inevitable point of destruction, and all the love in the world can't fix that. All the love in the world can't change what he knows he has to do.

"You need a distraction, Padme," he says after a moment. "You should meet with your friends again. Meeting with the Organas is impossible now, but you have other friends that are available, yes?"

Instantly, she's sitting up a little straighter. He has no doubt that she's aware he's not making small talk. "I hope to, yes."

"You should," he says carefully, every word a study in deliberation. "In the meantime, why don't you take a nap? I'll watch Leia for you."

"I—yes, that would be nice."

He gives her a brief nod before sliding the chair back across the floor and moving to take the baby in his arms. Padme gives her over, though her touch lingers, her hand sliding against Obi-Wan's.

With as much care as possible, he slips a note into her fingers.

"She's always so good for you, Obi-Wan," Padme half-whispers, her lips quirking into a tired smile as her fist closes around the note. It's astounding how unaffected she looks—how she's able to merely slide her closed fist into the folds of her dress, and then pull it back out to smooth away an imaginary wrinkle. Everything about her manner is cool and collected, as if she's already come to terms with what is necessary for them to do.

He wishes he could say he's done the same, because to hand her the floor plans as best as he remembers them from the lower levels where the Jedi are being held prisoner—it's difficult for him, merely because he's sure Anakin is going to feel the repercussions of his actions. The emperor will not be pleased if Padme manages to find a loyal source that can pass the plans along to Yoda.

"I'll take good care of her, Padme," he assures her, cradling Leia against his chest. He can hardly believe how small she is—how trustingly she curls against him.

Padme brushes a stray piece of hair out of her eyes. "I know you will. Just... promise that you _always_ will."

He doesn't like how that sounds—doesn't like what it seems she's implying. "I will, just as much as _you_ will in the years to come."

A small, sad smile curves her lips. "Right." Then, quietly, "I'll see you at dinner, Obi-Wan."

"Yes."

She turns and leaves without another word—not even a look back. The feeling that gives him isn't a pleasant one. He enjoys watching Leia for her, but the way she's acting—it's as if she believes she isn't going to be around much longer, and he doesn't want to think that's because she doesn't want to be. He wants to have faith that she's too strong to give up like that.

But then he wants a good many things, and, as of late, he hasn't gotten many of them.

"I don't believe she'd give up, Leia," he murmurs, raising a finger to tenderly stroke the smooth skin of the infant's cheek. "No one could give up like that—not when they had you and your brother to live for."

Could they?

* * *

Anakin isn't pleased to learn that Obi-Wan has been up all night. According to security, he intermittently spent time in the bathroom vomiting and in the bedroom tossing and turning. The droid that informs him of this puts its synopsis of the events bluntly: Obi-Wan needs medical attention.

Anakin knows better. Obi-Wan doesn't need a healer. All he needs is the Force.

Sidious would kill him—perhaps quite literally—if he knew Anakin was even considering giving him exactly that. He would no doubt supply him with a sharp lecture about how Obi-Wan is a threat—about how Anakin would really just be better off eliminating him altogether.

That is why Anakin has absolutely no intention of telling Sidious of his plans.

He'd be lying to himself if he didn't admit that he's surprised to realize he even _has_ plans. Obi-Wan is strong in the Force, and letting him have that back is a risk—a large one. Unfortunately, it's a risk he needs to take. Obi-Wan is a trained Jedi—the Force is his life, and to not have it is slowly killing him. He needs that presence to release his emotions into and, without it, Anakin isn't sure how long he'll be able to cope with everything he's seen.

He's not willing to drive Obi-Wan quite literally insane, Anakin decides as he turns away from the security droid.

Later tonight, he'll talk to Obi-Wan but, for now, he's going to spend some time with his son. Hopefully, it will help calm him enough so that he'll be able to talk with Obi-Wan rationally.

Luke is a beautiful baby. It's too early to tell which parent he'll more closely resemble, but as Obi-Wan, having put Leia down for a nap, watches Anakin cradle his son close, he has to admit that he hopes he looks like Anakin. He can't say why, exactly, other than that maybe he's giving into the purely selfish desire to see those almost elfin features on another little boy.

When he had been younger, Anakin's features had given him a sweet, almost innocent look—they'd made him endearing. As he'd grown, his face had angled out, becoming sharper, morphing into a handsomely dark visage that had made him the focus of more than a few members of the opposite sex. Obi-Wan had never been blind to the looks people had given his padawan—he'd known that Anakin had matured into a striking young man.

Personally, he'd always missed the innocent face of Anakin's childhood.

"Someday, Luke, you're going to be able to use the Force just like this," Anakin promises his son, laughing as he levitates a stuffed bantha toy just out of Luke's reach. Luke giggles, waving his chubby fists in the air with absolutely no coordination.

Anakin must be distracted not to notice that he's being watched as he plays with Luke out in the gardens. It doesn't matter. Obi-Wan is content to just observe—to see this glimpse of the good he is positive still resides inside of Anakin. A truly evil man doesn't play with his son like this, doesn't make faces at him and laugh, tickling him until he smiles and giggles.

"I'm not sure why we bought you a bantha," Anakin continues, letting the toy finally drift down into Luke's reach. Immediately, the poor creature is seized by clumsy hands and brought to the boy's mouth, where Luke begins to eagerly chew on its face as he watches his father with large, lively eyes. "They really aren't the most interesting creatures. Maybe once your mommy stops being mad at me, we can all go shopping for something else. Me, Mommy, you, and Leia. Maybe even Obi-Wan, if we can convince him to go. Wouldn't that be nice?"

Luke gurgles something around the growing wet spot on the stuffed bantha toy's face.

"Yeah, I'd like that too," he agrees, grinning as he reaches down and strokes his son's face.

Something about the interaction twists Obi-Wan's heart. This is the Anakin that he knows, that he misses, but as he thinks back on his time with his former padawan, it seems that he has far too few memories of times when this side of Anakin was at the forefront. A display like this—it holds a lot of emotion, yes, but there's something so loving in it that Obi-Wan finds himself unable to outright condemn it.

If this side of Anakin had been more prominent, he has to wonder if things would have been different. Just the hint of the possibility shoves icy needles of regret up his spine, deeper, until they seem to reach his heart and lungs.

Because even if this is emotion, he can't believe that it's wrong.

"I love your mommy, Luke," Anakin continues slowly, dropping his hand until Luke releases the stuffed bantha in favor of touching his father instead. His tiny fingers close around one of Anakin's. "I love her a lot, but I've done some really, really bad things to her. It's—it's like I can't control it, and afterwards I'm always sorry, but the dark power—I can't seem to stop using it. I know I could—that I could turn away from it completely, but I'm so scared of what will happen if I do. What if I can't protect her?"

A tiny frown creases the skin between Luke's eyebrows, and he screws his face up as though he's about to cry. He's feeling his father's negative emotions, Obi-Wan realizes—he's picking them up in the Force.

Anakin seems to realize it too. "Sorry, Luke," he murmurs apologetically. "I shouldn't be talking about this with you. I'll figure something out, and we'll be the family we were supposed to be in the first place. By the time that you're old enough to understand, things will be right. You'll see."

His hope hurts, because Obi-Wan is sure it's misplaced. He hurts for Anakin—for the entire failure of his misguided emotions and attempts. So many mistakes from so many people, and Anakin is trying to fix them in all the wrong ways. The Dark Side won't fix anything, but Anakin can't seem to see that—can't seem to see that he can't make things work the way he wants them.

People aren't like droids.

Life is not a machine to be fixed.

Anakin can't change reality the same way that he can manipulate anything mechanical.

Obi-Wan knows he shouldn't feel a dull ache in his chest as he considers that. It's not logical—it's entirely emotional, and he's not sure when Anakin first managed to work his way into Obi-Wan's life so thoroughly that he entangled his emotions. It might have been the first time the boy fixed him with a real, untainted smile, so freely affectionate that Obi-Wan couldn't help but be ensnared. Or it might have been when Anakin first hugged him, wrapping his arms around Obi-Wan's waist and burying his face in his robes. It could have possibly even been the time when, after only two weeks of living with Obi-Wan on Coruscant, he managed to ruin every single one of Obi-Wan's under-tunics when he decided to try to be "helpful" and do laundry.

Ultimately, Obi-Wan doesn't think that it matters when it happened.

All that matters is that it _has_.

Somewhere along the line, Anakin filled the void that Qui-Gon had left, and then, slowly, became something different—something all his own—but just as requisite. The bond Obi-Wan had with Qui-Gon hadn't been what he had with Anakin. Qui-Gon had taken care of him, had been his mentor, and the man he loved as a father. Anakin—Anakin became his responsibility, his reason for so much of what he did, the person he planned his life around, and his child.

Attachment was forbidden, but as much as he'd tried to avoid it, he'd slowly grown to love Anakin. Even now, he can't understand how that could have been wrong.

Maybe, it wasn't.

Obi-Wan inhales sharply as the possibility hits him, perfect in its clarity and frightening in its intensity, but so, so simple. Too simple, and why hadn't he seen it before? Why hadn't he seen that it was possible that maybe he wasn't wrong at all. Maybe it's attachment that isn't right, not love, because how can love in its purest form ever actually be wrong? Attachment implies selfish motives, because to be attached to something is to fear its loss—to fear what losing it might do to one's self.

But love is one of the most selfless emotions Obi-Wan knows of.

What he felt for Anakin was never selfish. He'd have given his life for Anakin, because the boy was as much a part of him as any blood son ever could have been. What he'd felt for the boy was completely selfless.

It was not a hindrance to duty.

The only thing that was a hindrance was the fact that he tried to deny loving Anakin.

It's an odd thing, this concept of deciding that the Jedi might not have been right about everything. It's... so Qui-Gon that Obi-Wan almost wants to laugh, except there's really nothing to laugh at. How can there be? It's an error that he's beginning to think might have destroyed the Republic.

Anakin's voice cuts through his thoughts, confirming everything Obi-Wan never wanted to know but can now never forget. "I know your mommy will forgive me, Luke." Slowly, Anakin rubs his thumb over the back of Luke's hand, where his tiny fingers are still gripping Anakin's pointer finger. "I love her, and she'll see that I've done all this for her."

Would he have done all this if the Jedi had been willing to help him—if they'd given him an answer beyond telling him to let his attachment go? It's too late to know. It's too late for anything but the future.

Obi-Wan can only hope it's not too late for that, too.


	10. Part 1: Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: **No, but if I did I'd have a lot of fun.

**Author's Note:**

phantom-jedi1: I've always kind of wanted to smack Yoda in the head with that concept whenever I watch the movies or read any of the books. All the bad results come from attachment, not love itself.

Kyer: It won't end entirely badly. I promise.

badkidoh: I can see where you would think that Padme is a little OOC, because the decisions she's making certainly aren't ones she'd make in the movies. The way I'm viewing her right now, though, is that she pretty much reached a breaking point when she realized that Anakin could corrupt her children. After that, her focus shifted from devoted-to-Anakin to devoted-to-children.

Anakin T Skywalker: I was kind of sad about it too. Believe it or not, I actually like Padme's character.

aliceandjasper: I think it's in your definition of tragedy. I promise that this story won't have a completely unhappy ending.

jedigal125: No, she won't commit suicide.

Thanks to everyone else who reviewed!

**Feedback:** Makes me as happy as staying safely on the ground makes Obi-Wan!

* * *

After an afternoon of time with Luke, Anakin finds Obi-Wan standing on the balcony with Leia, watching as the sun sets over the industrial skyline of Coruscant. Only, Obi-Wan isn't doing much watching—instead, he's talking to Leia. The sight alone is enough to make Anakin's lips quirk upwards in a rare, genuine smile. His former master, Obi-Wan Kenobi, is talking to a baby in a way so undignified that Anakin knows he's going to hate realizing he's been found doing it.

He clears his throat loudly.

As expected, Obi-Wan flushes a bright red. "Anakin."

"You never did that with me," he teases, just for something to say—just because he's enjoying the moment. He's missed light moments like these.

A tiny ghost of a smile flickers in Obi-Wan's eyes, though it never reaches his mouth. "You were hardly a baby when I became your master, Anakin. I doubt you would have liked being spoken to as if you were an infant."

Nodding, Anakin shifts Luke in his arms. He's had full care of his son all afternoon, even shortly before Padme went to visit with friends—not that he's complaining. He would never complain about the time he spends with Luke. Never. The way Luke lays in his arms, so trustingly, staring up at him with enchanting blue eyes that seem to radiate acceptance—the feeling is perfect, and he craves the sort of acceptance that only his son is giving him anymore.

Leia, as much as he loves her, isn't the same. Whereas Luke seems to calm when Anakin holds him, Leia becomes fussy, agitated to the point where she cries. Oddly, he thinks it's because she's too much like him. The darkness that she can sense in him obviously upsets her, and, like Anakin, she responds to what she doesn't like by complaining. Loudly.

Luke... he's different. He must sense the darkness as well—Anakin knows he's Force-sensitive—but instead of fearing it, he seems to want to face it, to calm it with his sweet personality. He's just a baby—too young to really understand what he's doing—but the way he looks at Anakin with such love—it's as if he sees the darkness and intends to outshine it with his light.

It's enough to make Anakin want to let him, if he wasn't so scared to let go of the power that the dark gives him.

"She's very comfortable with you, you know," Anakin says, nodding toward where Leia is falling asleep in Obi-Wan's arms. "It's nice. Thank you for watching her while Padme visits with her friends. She needed the time, I think."

He supposes that Obi-Wan's tiny, nearly imperceptible flinch is worry at the fact that Padme needed the time at all. He can understand—he feels the same way.

Anakin supposes he shouldn't be surprised that his daughter has taken so well to Obi-Wan. He's already admitted to himself that Leia has his personality and, well, Obi-Wan has had years to learn how to deal with Anakin's temperament. It's unsurprising that he's so good with a baby who displays so many of Anakin's traits.

"You have beautiful children, Anakin."

He takes the compliment in stride, pleased that Obi-Wan at least still likes _something_ about him. "She's more like me, you know—Leia, I mean. Luke—Luke is more like Padme."

Obi-Wan glances at where Leia is curled in his arms, blinking sleepily, but still fighting off slumber. "Yes."

"Leia is headstrong already, but Luke—he's calm and will probably be more thoughtful once he gets older. Sensitive."

"Leia is sensitive, too." The all-but-sleeping baby in his arms stirs a little as he speaks, raising a hand to lightly close around Obi-Wan's tunic. "It's just in a different way."

"More like how I was as a child?"

"You, Anakin, were an entity unto yourself," he replies with a small sigh. "But, yes, more like you. A lot like you."

Anakin doesn't enjoy the sadness that taints Obi-Wan's features. He looks as though the memories hurt. "Do you remember when I was about ten, and I saw someone's face get blown off for the first time?"

A frown pulls at the corners of Obi-Wan's mouth. "Yes. You pretended it didn't bother you. You wouldn't talk about it, and you became irritated when I tried to make you."

"Until I had a nightmare. Then I came to find you in the middle of the night."

"And wouldn't go back to sleep, as I recall," Obi-Wan adds, wryly. "Yes, I remember."

"So you got me a cup of tea and let me sit awake in your bed talking until I finally became too tired to fight off sleep anymore. You let me stay with you."

Obi-Wan nods. "What you saw bothered you."

"Because I was the same kind of sensitive that I bet Leia is going to be. I—it's hard to explain. I didn't like to see things that hurt, but I didn't like to admit I could have any kind of weakness, either. I didn't want you to know how much things got to me, so when they did, I got angry and irritated in an effort to hide how I really felt."

"Like Leia does, at least as much as a baby can," Obi-Wan agrees with a smirk. He turns his gaze down to Leia and rocks her gently. "She'll be the sharp-tongued one of the two, I'll bet. Never one to admit weakness, but kind and loving underneath. Sensitive in a way she'll try to stop people from seeing."

Anakin's stomach twists. Was that what Obi-Wan thought about him? "Is that an observation about her, or about how you thought I was?" He doesn't understand how he can so very much want it to be about him. He shouldn't—he's a Sith now. He shouldn't still crave Obi-Wan's approval.

Immediately, Obi-Wan's expression closes off, and the moment is shattered. It's so quick—so complete that Anakin can't hope to get it back, as much as he wants it. "Why are you out here, Anakin? Did you need something?"

Anakin considers pressing Obi-Wan for an answer, but after last night, he doesn't relish the idea of another fight. Besides, he's come to tell Obi-Wan something. "I—try to touch the Force, Obi-Wan."

Whatever emotion was left on Obi-Wan's face vanishes, replaced by something completely unreadable and closed-off. "I'm not playing this game, Anakin," he says slowly, every word precisely articulated, so much so that Anakin understands he's trying to make his point—trying to stop this now without having to show how much the loss of the Force is hurting him.

"Just try."

He knows the moment that Obi-Wan does. It's nothing blatant—no ostentatious display that Anakin himself would likely have made—but the tiny light fueled by hope which brightens his eyes is enough. Obi-Wan knows he has the Force back, and as the realization sinks in, relief begins to find its way into his features, relaxing his mouth, causing his eyes to flutter closed for a few moments. Anakin hadn't realized how tense Obi-Wan was until now, when he's finally relaxing, if only a little.

"As I'm sure you know by now, there's an implant somewhere inside of you that stopped you from accessing the Force. I had its setting changed so that as long as you stay inside this apartment, it won't do that anymore."

Obi-Wan swallows, raising his gaze to meet Anakin's. "I presume that, should I leave these apartments, I'll suddenly find myself without the Force once again?"

"Yes."

It's obvious that he'd like to say something—would like to protest—but he remains silent, perhaps in the name of prudence, Anakin thinks. Obi-Wan is smart enough to know that an argument might only earn him a revocation of this unexpected reprieve.

Instead, he settles for a comment that's only mildly provoking in its nature, though the weariness in his tone takes most of the sting out of it. "You offer an odd sort of hospitality, Anakin."

"I've told you that Sidious will kill you if you leave this apartment. Why is it so difficult to understand that I'm trying to stop that from happening?"

Obi-Wan doesn't answer right away. Instead, he settles down on a seat a few feet back from the edge of the balcony. Leia is still cradled in his arms, asleep now, though her tiny hand continues to clutch at Obi-Wan's tunic.

"It's not difficult to understand that you are trying to stop that from happening, Anakin. It's simply difficult to understand _why_."

He feels his brow furrow. "I don't follow your meaning."

"Why do you care, Anakin? About me, about Padme, about that baby in your arms? Why? A true Sith lord wouldn't care—he would be fueled only by his anger and his hate."

"I just wanted to be able to save Padme—"

"So you embraced the dark. Yes, I know, you've told me. But, ultimately, wasn't it because you were afraid to lose her? That, Anakin, is why the Jedi code forbids attachment... not love. If you can love in a way that allows you to let the person go..."

"Then why would you never tell me that you loved me?"

The way Obi-Wan regards him almost sadly is a bit surprising. It's enough to make Anakin listen attentively to what he's about to say. "Because I never quite realized until recently that love is not the same thing as attachment."

"And you seem to almost regret that..."

"Would you believe me if I said that I did?"

Anakin glances down, taking note of the way Obi-Wan is holding Leia. It's... fatherly, and not at all the pose of someone who doesn't care for the tiny life in his arms. It's someone who's entirely comfortable with the child he's holding—someone who doesn't regret that he cares for that child. "I might."

"I'm beginning to think that I do. Just as I believe that you regret some of the things you've done."

"I don't regret what I've done," he snaps, mentally recoiling. He's not in the mood for another list of his short-comings. "I don't regret saving Padme."

Only, he _does_ regret the methods he used. The memories of the destruction of the Jedi Temple haunt him, even if he keeps telling himself they shouldn't. The Jedi were traitors, they betrayed the Republic, and they deserved what they got.

"I know you wish you hadn't hurt Padme the other night, and I think you're scared you'll do it again. Because you know that as long as you cling to the dark side, Anakin, you can lose control—"

"No, I'll learn to control it!" he cuts him off, trying not to feel guilty when Luke gives a fussy cry. He can always sense the darkness in the Force, and Anakin hates it when he makes his son cry. He hates that there's a part of him that even his own son despises.

"It can't be controlled, Anakin. It will dominate you, just as the light side of the Force does. In the end, we can only choose which side we want to live by."

Luke's tiny face screws up and he begins to squirm. "You're wrong!"

"You are the one who's wrong, Anakin," Obi-Wan counters, shooting him a look tinged with sadness. "Though, you're not the only one. Even the Jedi had their faults. No one was infallible, but you still have to recognize that this path is only going to lead to destruction."

Even as a sneer rises on his lips, he's already hating himself for it. The possibility that Obi-Wan is right is enough to make him loathe his inability to even consider that he's wrong, because he's afraid that he might be and, if he is, where will that leave him? After all that he's done, what will happen to him if he was wrong? He's killed so many people—there's so much blood on his hands—and, surely, if he admits that, he can't expect Padme, Obi-Wan, and his children to stand by him... and he so desperately doesn't want to lose any of them.

No, he simply can't be wrong.

"With my power, Obi-Wan, I saved Padme. Could the Jedi do that?"

The sadness in Obi-Wan's face deepens. "They might have been able to if they'd realized that love is not the same as attachment. But, even if they hadn't been able to, the light side of the Force would have still been able to help heal _you_ from that loss. The dark side—it heals nothing, Anakin. It only destroys."

The dark undercurrents of the Force begin to hum inside of him, growing stronger with every word that Obi-Wan speaks. He doesn't want to lose his temper again—doesn't want to hurt Obi-Wan like he did the night before—but it's so difficult to keep control. That in itself is defeat, because hasn't Obi-Wan just told him that? He can't control the Force's power, but whereas before the light side aided him and those around him, the dark side brings only power and destruction. To lose control of that side of the Force is far more deadly.

"You can manipulate the Force for a time, Anakin, but eventually its power will overwhelm you."

The beeping of Anakin's comlink interrupts his intended reply. It hardly matters, anyway—he's not even sure what he was going to say.

A quick check reveals that it's Sidious who's summoning him... again. It's as if his time is not his own. The very prospect of seeing that man's twisted face is enough to increase his annoyance. He doesn't want to see him, and knowing that he has to answer the call is enough to make him want to go even less.

Unfortunately, he knows he has to if he doesn't want to suffer repercussions.

"I'm going to take Luke up to bed," he tells Obi-Wan as he puts his comlink away. "Please keep an eye on him. I'm going out."

Obi-Wan doesn't ask why.

Anakin's not surprised—he has a feeling his former master already knows without having to be told.

* * *

After Anakin leaves, Obi-Wan puts Leia to bed. He loves the little girl, but she needs some sleep... and he needs some time alone. It's been too long since he's touched the Force, and to have it back now is something beyond even relief.

Except, he's having trouble meditating.

When Obi-Wan was younger, this was a problem he'd often had. He'd certainly never told Anakin that—the boy would have been insufferable if he'd known that Obi-Wan had possessed the same difficulties that he himself had—but it didn't make it any less true. Back in those days, proper meditation had always seemed so illusive, a calm center seeming to be a mere ideal and not a reality.

Now, kneeling on his bedroom floor in a meditative pose, he's beginning to wonder if he's back to that stage again. He can grasp the Force—can feel it singing all around him—and while it's a balm to his injured mind, he can't quite seem to properly release all his feelings to it.

Worse, he knows exactly why.

He can't release his feelings to the Force simply because he doesn't want to. He doesn't want to give himself up to the will of the Force, mainly because he fears what that will might be.

He fears that it may mean killing Anakin.

The idea is enough to bring back every bit of anxiety that he'd managed to release, leaving him in the same position he was when he'd begun meditating. Until he gives in to whatever the Force has planned for him, he knows that what he is doing is useless.

But he's not yet ready to bow to a larger plan. He's not ready to accept that he may have to end Anakin's life.

With a deep sigh, he gets up off his knees and heads for the door of the room.

He'll try this again later. Maybe by then he'll have more clarity in his thoughts.

* * *

Anakin can barely remember a time when he was actually glad to see Sidioius. It seems so strange that this man was once Palpatine, the kindly old gentleman who was almost a grandfather-sort of figure. How this man could have ever been a trusted friend—someone Anakin asked for advice—he's not sure. Now he's fairly certain that Sidious would kill him if he thought it would further his plans.

Though, that was likely always the case. It's just that Anakin is only seeing that _now_.

"You summoned me, Master?" Anakin says, sinking to one knee in front of Sidious. His mood is as harsh and unmovable as the durasteel room around them. There's nothing welcoming about these new chambers—it's nothing like Palpatine's office used to be. Before, where there were warm, inviting colors, there's now dark, harsh metal.

Sidious stares down at him with his reddened eyes. His face is terrible to look at—almost diseased, and certainly very deformed, as if his face has begun to melt. "Yes, my apprentice. I thought it necessary to inform you that a... setback has occurred."

All right. He has Anakin's attention.

"I think that perhaps you might have insight into exactly how this misstep came into being."

"I am sorry, Master, but I'm unsure of what you mean."

"Undoubtedly you are, Lord Vader. Allow me to enlighten you." Each movement a deliberate one, Sidious rises from his chair, indicating that Vader should stand as well. Once they are on an equal level, he catches Anakin's gaze and holds it with an intensity that Anakin has very seldom seen matched. There's a warning in those sulfur-colored eyes: whatever Sidious is about to reveal, he's very displeased by it. "Somehow, the remaining Jedi were able to discern where we were holding our prisoners, mainly ones from the _Jedi Order_."

Anakin feels his stomach plummet to what feels like somewhere near his boots. He knows what's coming, but he dares not interrupt. It would only make things worse… and if this is what Anakin thinks it is, things are horrendous already.

"It seems that the Jedi had information from the inside. Can you think of anyone who might have seen the prison levels—who was _shown_ where they were?"

"My Lord, I apologize for my failure. It won't happen again." He'll find out who Obi-Wan is in contact with, and he'll kill that person. Slowly and _painfully_. Then he'll make sure that Obi-Wan doesn't interact with anyone else, and he certainly won't be taking him on any more excursions out of the apartment.

"You're correct," Sidious replies sharply. "It won't. Master Kenobi will be removed, just as I said he should have been from the beginning. I was remiss to allow this little... _indulgence_ at all."

No. Anakin won't accept that. "You can't kill him. I'll make sure it doesn't happen again."

Sidious's mouth curls into something between a snarl and a smirk. "You misunderstand me, Lord Vader: I have already arranged for him to be terminated. Tonight. _Now_."

No. _No_.

Some strange mixture of rage and terror erupts inside of Anakin, melding together until he can't begin to separate the two emotions. All he knows is that Sidious is going to kill Obi-Wan, that he's going to kill the man who's been like his father and brother, and that, right now, Anakin is incapable of stopping it. There's nothing he can do. He'll never get there in time.

"Call it off!" he demands, abandoning all pretense of an obedient apprentice as he lunges to his feet, stopping barely an arm's length away from Sidious. "If you kill him, I will never do anything that you say."

Sidious smiles, wide and open. There's delight dancing in his deformed eyes and face, so twisted, but pleased with the destruction he's causing. "I think you will, Lord Vader. I _know_ you will. There are still others that you care for, after all." He pauses, slowly wetting his lips with his tongue in a grotesque parody of thoughtfulness. "Your children, for example. It would be so... easy to snap their tiny necks. Imagine how they would look, as the life flows out of them..." His eyes flutter closed as he smiles even more widely. "Just imagine..."

"I'LL KILL YOU!" Anakin screams, lunging forward. He doesn't know what he intends to do, only that he will do whatever it takes.

His hands never close on anything more than air before agony rips through him, through his skin, through his bones, through every part of him. He's on fire, burning for the inside out, dying, falling, slipping away—

It stops, and he's on the ground.

Sidious's hands still crackle with blue lightening as he looks down at where Anakin has fallen. "You still have much to learn, my apprentice. So much to learn. This foolish love that you have for these people—it gives me _power_ over you. Only your pain and your rage will give you the strength that you need to embrace your true destiny. I can feel your conflict, your hate," he whispers, inhaling deeply as he closes his eyes, drawing himself up to full height as he feeds on Anakin's emotions. "Let them take control..."

No. No, he won't, because if he ever does, he won't have Padme. He won't have his children. He won't have Obi-Wan. He'll have nothing to live for, and the entire reason he embraced the dark side in the first place will be gone. It will all mean nothing. His _life_ will mean nothing, and he'll only be a puppet for Sidious to use.

He'd be better off dead.

"They hold you back, Lord Vader. With their passing, you will embrace the dark side fully."

"I will _never_ be like you!" he rages, clambering to his feet. His nerves scream in protest, but he ignores the pain. He doesn't have time for pain right now.

Sidious's lips stretch back over his yellowed teeth in a wide, satisfied smile. "You already are."

"NO!"

"Do you think your family will ever accept you after what you did to the Jedi? You slaughtered them. You left their corpses littering the halls of the Jedi Temple. The old and the sick, the younglings—_all_ of them. No one could forgive _that_. The things you have done, my young apprentice—they are so heavily imbued with the Dark Side. None of the people you love will be able to excuse or forgive you."

Maybe they won't, but Anakin still won't let them die. They deserve better—better than _him_—and he wishes he'd realized that sooner. Padme would be better off dead than living in the world he's created, and now maybe she _will_ be dead, because Anakin very much doubts that Sidious only intends to kill Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan.

Sidious doesn't know he can touch the Force. It's not much—Obi-Wan still doesn't have a weapon—but it's a glimmer of hope, and if anyone could stop whatever assassination attempt Sidious has planned, it's Obi-Wan.

He's got to believe that.

Fixing Sidious with one last murderous glare—because this confrontation isn't over, but merely postponed—Anakin turns and sprints for the door. He has to get home, has to try to stop this, even if he knows he'll be too late.

"You will return, Lord Vader," Sidious says, cackling as Anakin flees the room. "The darkness is already in you, and you will return. You will return, and I will be waiting..."

Anakin runs.


	11. Part 1: Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: **Still just wishing.

**Author's Note:**

AndrossKenobi: You have my word that I won't kill Obi-Wan. :)

ObiBettina7: Obi-Wan certainly has some fight left.

Anakin T Skywalker: You know, that's something that always bugged me about the Original Trilogy. Anakin/Vader just kept on obeying the Emperor, and that's really not something I can see Anakin doing. I never really understood that.

aliceandjasper: I have to admit, I had fun writing this part—I also liked Anakin finally recognizing just what some of his actions have done. Oh, and it's not Obi-Wan you should be worried about.

Hazelcloud: I definitely agree. Plus, cookie-cutter, all-bad villains aren't any fun to write.

Thanks to everyone else who reviewed!

**Feedback:** Is great!

* * *

Padme joins Obi-Wan in the entrance room of the apartment after both the children have been put to bed. The room seems smaller tonight, its curved ceiling lower than Obi-Wan remembers, and certainly nothing like the time that he and Anakin first stood here, assigned to protect Senator Amidala from assassination.

"Did they go down all right?" he asks, leaning back into the sofa with a soft sigh. The couch molds underneath him, curving to his body as he lets himself physically relax. "I could have put them to bed, you know—"

Padme gives him a soft smile. "It's all right, Obi-Wan. You watched Leia all day."

"I don't mind, Padme. I happen to like your children."

She settles down next to him on the couch, the fabric of her nightdress spilling down her legs when she sits. It makes Obi-Wan think of a waterfall, both in color and in texture. He'd very much like to hear one right now—would like to hear the comforting sound of cascading water. The Room of a Thousand Fountains would be soothing, but of course there's the distinct possibility that it's been destroyed. He's not sure what the inside of the Jedi Temple looks like now—not since after Operation Knightfall—and he's afraid to ask Anakin.

He's not sure he wants to know.

"You seem tired, Obi-Wan."

"So do you. I think we all are. I imagine that after your meeting with your 'friends', _you_ certainly are."

He can see the weariness in her face. She used to be able to hide it so well, and she still can when absolutely necessary, but it's obvious that her resolve is beginning to wear down. A love gone bad has affected her in a way nothing else in the galaxy ever could. "I never thanked you for the other night," she says quietly, her slim fingers working to smooth away a few nearly invisible tangles from her dark hair. It seems odd to see her hair down in such mass. Obi-Wan is used to the elaborate styles of a senator and queen.

"You don't need to thank me."

"Yes, I think I do. I—what did he do to you, Obi-Wan?"

It's not a question he wants to answer, but he can see the worry in her dark eyes and knows that to not tell her—at least in some capacity—would be cruel. "He showed me what became of a friend of mine."

Her cheeks color with irritation and perhaps pity. "That was cruel of him."

"How do you know that my friend wasn't living as a pampered guest?"

"Don't tease, Obi-Wan."

It wasn't meant to be funny—he doesn't really think she believes he meant it to be—but he hadn't been able to think of anything else to say, and right now he'd do just about anything to deflect the weakness that he's feeling. It's the same weakness that he'd thought the Force would cure. "He's letting me touch the Force again, you know."

That at least gets a reaction out of her: she sits up straighter and fixes him with a surprised look. "What?"

"I can touch the Force. As long as I stay in this apartment, that is."

"And the flashbacks you've been experiencing?"

"Haven't occurred since," he admits, smiling a little. That, at least, is something to be thankful for. These days, he'll take whatever happiness he can get.

"Then why do you still seem troubled?"

"Touching the Force doesn't fix circumstances, Padme. It just allows a Jedi to release his emotions to it, though sometimes those emotions are too strong to let go of entirely. It's a problem Anakin has always had."

"Anakin, yes, but not _you_." Her brow wrinkles, and she reaches over and lays a hand on his shoulder. "Obi-Wan, this isn't like you."

"Unfortunately, it is. If you'd known me when I was younger, you wouldn't be so surprised. By the time Anakin became my padawan, I was... more restrained, you might say." There are so many reasons why that's true—so many reasons it _had_ to be—but he doesn't have the energy to even begin to detail them all. Closing his eyes briefly, he prepares to continue with a shorter, less painful explanation, though even that is inadequate. There's no way to satisfactorily explain this. "I just need time, Padme. Meditation will help."

"If you say so." She doesn't sound or look very convinced.

It's not surprising when silence creeps in between them. There's so much they need to say, but almost all of it hurts, and not saying anything at all is very much the easier course of action. It won't last, he knows—he can already feel her thinking, worrying about him. It's so strange to be able to tangibly sense that worry again. He'd forgotten how much the Force enhanced his existence—without it, the world had seemed awfully quiet.

"How's your back?" she asks after a few moments.

"Much better. It's almost healed now, though it will scar."

Looking away, she grips the folds of her dress until her knuckles turn white—until Obi-Wan can physically see just how much what Anakin did to him affected her. He never thought about it in those terms before, but now, looking back, he has to admit that it makes sense—the fact that Anakin was capable of injuring him so severely must have truly indicated to her that her husband had changed.

"I still can't believe he did that to you," she murmurs, regret heavy in her voice.

"I—"

A soft sound stops him.

In all his years as a Jedi, Obi-Wan has learned to appreciate the subtle warnings that small sights, sounds, and smells can provide, if only a person will learn to look for them. Everything is caused by _something_, and he's become quite adept at following trails back to a source. This—whatever he's hearing—might be worth following.

The sound isn't much, just a light mechanical whirring, but something about it disturbs him and puts him on his guard. The Force is rippling around him, not quite a warning yet, but most definitely a disturbance, and how many times had he felt something just like this in the Clone Wars? Usually, it was followed by events that led to casualties.

"Padme," he begins quietly, getting to his feet and staring at the doors to the turbolift, "go stay with the children."

"What?" Following his gaze, her eyes dart towards the doors. "Why?"

"I don't have time to explain." A sense of urgency begins to grow within him, slowly, like a tiny itch that grows until it becomes bigger and far more imminent. "_Now_, Padme," he warns, the urgency seeping into his tone. He can't explain this, but he needs her out of this room _now_.

This time she doesn't question. She's off the sofa before he speaks again, heading for the twin's bedroom.

The turbolift opens before she gets there.

Later, Obi-Wan will never remember quite what happened. Everything about the night will become something of a blur, because for all of the battles he's faced, none were ever quite this_ personal_. This is about him—possibly about Padme—but it's not a fight that's about a greater cause. He is the epicenter of this, and it starts and ends in this apartment.

A warning screams in the Force, and he dives for Padme just as a blaster shot is fired, ripping through the air as it flies straight at them. Clones. He doesn't have time to count them—not as he's pulling Padme behind the sofa—but there are enough of them to cause a significant problem. He's not armed, and they most certainly are.

The only thing he has working in his favor is that he doubts they know he can touch the Force.

He and Padme slam into the floor behind the sofa. There's no time to recover; shots erupt around him, singeing the couch and the wall. He's got to get a weapon or this will be over before it even really begins.

"Stay behind here," he orders Padme. Setting her jaw, she gives him a small nod. It's enough. She's not a solider, but she understands fighting, and she trusts that he knows what he's doing. He's confident she'll do as he says. "Stay down," he adds, just before he launches forward, flinging himself into plain sight. As soon as he does, blaster bolts fly at him, almost deadly in their accuracy. Almost.

He's not dead _yet_.

There isn't much furniture in the room, and Obi-Wan hardly has the time to concentrate enough to throw it at the clones anyway. It's really with desperation that he sends a wave of the Force at them—he doesn't have time for accuracy—hoping that it at least makes contact with _some_ of them.

His luck holds. It catches two of them, slamming them harshly back into the wall with a sickening crack. They don't get up again, and that gives him enough time to dive back behind the sofa, though not before he's used the Force to summon one of the fallen men's blasters.

"How many of them?" Padme asks, her face pinched and white, but so, so determined.

"About ten, I think."

Footsteps echo loudly against the walls of the apartment. The clones are spreading out, no doubt trying to circle around the sofa to get a better shot. He can't see how their plan is going to fail. He's armed with only a blaster, and there are ten of them, one of him, and Padme—she isn't even armed. Things would be easier if he could have gotten her to the twins' room...

As quickly as he can, Obi-Wan throws himself to his feet, aiming at the nearest clone solider. His mark finds its aim and the trooper falls. Three down now. There's still so many, though, and without a lightsaber he can't block their shots. This is not good, not good at all...

Fire rips through his shoulder.

"Force!" he gasps, falling back behind the sofa.

"Obi-Wan!"

"It's nothing, just a graze." It burns terribly, but he knows that's all it is. He's had blaster wounds before. "We've got to get to the twins' room." They'll kill the babies—he's sure they will. They killed Jedi children, after all, and had left their bodies littering the Temple floors as surely as Anakin had.

Nobody seems innocent anymore.

"Run—I'll cover you."

She does, no questions asked, and it scares him that she trusts him that much. It scares him almost as much as the possibility that one of those blasts might hit their mark and not the wall behind him, but they're running, so close now, close...

A bolt misses him by inches, and he fires back, just as Padme dives through the door to the babies' room. Behind him, he hears a clone grunt in pain.

"Are you all right?" he gasps, slamming the door shut with the Force. It won't hold, but he just needs a moment to regroup. This is a better tactical position anyway, easier to defend because the clones will have to come through the door one at a time, giving him the opportunity to pick them off. It's a chance, at least, and with a chance, there's a possibility of victory.

"I'm fine," she replies immediately, breathing hard. Her face is white, but there's something in her eyes that Obi-Wan can understand. She's not willing to lose this battle. She will _die_ trying to win if that's what it takes, because she's got too much at stake to give anything less.

Her children. Her life. So much of what she cares about could be destroyed right here. It doesn't seem fair that after everything she's already lost, there's still more to be taken. None of this seems fair. He can't even remember the last time that things were really, truly fair. Before the war, certainly, but even then... Obi-Wan pushes his thoughts aside. He's thinking erratically, which is not what he needs right now. He should know better.

Something slams into the door.

"Padme—" Obi-Wan turns to find her rummaging through the closet. She's tearing boxes down from the shelves, tossing clothing aside...

...and coming up with a knife.

"I hid it," she says by way of explanation. Even from here, he can see her hands shaking as she grips it hard enough so that the blood starts to drain from her fingers. "I knew it would never be enough against Anakin, but I had to have something—"

The metal of the door creaks in protest as something hits it again.

Obi-Wan is on his feet, blaster clutched in his hand. "They're going to come through. Get the babies and—"

He never has time to finish his explanation: the door slams open before he can.

The first clone is vulnerable and easy to pick off, but the second two come together, and he can't hit both at once. He keeps shooting anyway, hitting three more as one slips by into the room. The smell of burning flesh fills the air, and he can hear the babies screaming, Padme shouting, and it all comes down to this, to _this_, and nothing has ever been more important. He doesn't know anything anymore, expect that this is far more terrifying than any moment on the battlefield when it had only been his own life and those of trained soldiers at stake.

Here, it's a family—what might as well be _his_ family.

Reaching into the Force again, Obi-Wan yanks the blaster out of the hands of the solider who got passed the door. With as much accuracy as he can manage when going so fast, he flings the weapon at Padme. She catches it, and begins to fire.

The babies are too vulnerable, he realizes as a clone ducks one of his shots and slips into the room. One shot at the cribs, and they could be killed. The clones will try, too—he knows they will.

Though he hates to do it, he sends a Force-push behind him, tipping the cribs over. The babies scream as they topple, but at least now they'll have more cover, lying behind the cribs and among the clothes and boxes that Padme pulled loose.

Obi-Wan loses track of whom he's killed after that. It's all a fury of red blaster bolts, of grunts and cries and terrible smells—of desperation. Padme is next to him, firing, dodging shots. The room is a grotesque parody of a battlefield—rocking chairs and fallen cribs for cover, babies as civilians, men he fought beside as their aggressors. Nothing seems right, not even the weapon in his hand. He wants his lightsaber so badly, but he has no knowledge of where Anakin has hidden it, and even if he did know, he wouldn't be able to get to it now.

The next point that Obi-Wan really remembers with clarity is when one of the clones lunges forward, tackling him. The blow knocks the wind out of him as he slams into the floor, grappling for a good hold—a killing hold.

They roll to the ground together, fighting for dominance. Maybe three weeks ago he would have been able gain the upper hand, but those weeks in bed with an injury have dulled his hand-to-hand combat skills, and while he's able to knock off the clone's helmet and give him a bloody nose, he can do little else. The clone is in better physical shape than he's in, and he can feel it. He's hardly surprised when their grappling ends with him pinned down.

He is surprised when he realizes he knows the clone.

"Cody?"

"I'm sorry, General." There's real regret in his voice, but it means nothing, not anymore, not with what he's about to do. Regret displayed before a crime has no meaning if it doesn't stop the person.

Resigned, Obi-Wan closes his eyes and tries not to think about whom he's failing by dying like this.

The final blow never comes.

From above Obi-Wan, there's a sharp grunt, then a gasp. Hardly seconds later, Cody's heavy weight crushes down against his chest as he falls on Obi-Wan in something reminiscent of a grotesque embrace. It's funny how it's anything but. Nothing could be further from reality. _Nothing_.

When Obi-Wan opens his eyes and pushes the clone off, he's greeted with the sight of a knife through Cody's chest.

"Padme—"

Their eyes connect for just one moment, which is enough for Obi-Wan to know that what she's just done has cost her dearly. It's left her open, vulnerable, and before he can even form a warning, he sees both of the remaining two clone troopers raise their blasters, aiming…

His fingers close around Cody's blaster, and he shoots. It _has_ to be enough—there's nothing else he can do—and as he sees one of them fall, he dares to let himself hope. He shoots again, and his second shot catches the other in the chest, but not quickly enough to stop the blast of red light that fires from the clone trooper's blaster, just before he crumples.

The blast catches Padme in the chest.

Obi-Wan knows what death is. He's seen it numerous times on a battlefield. He's had to step over the bodies of friends and enemies alike, because war doesn't stop for mourning, and a battle goes on regardless of who has fallen. But this—this is _different_. This isn't war. This is just murder.

Flat out, brutal murder.

"Padme..."

Before he even reaches out to touch her, he can see that the blaster's bolt has hit its mark. It was a good shot, a solid shot from a trained clone, and she hadn't had time to duck. "Padme," he gasps again, his voice rasping and strange, even to his own ears. "I'm sorry—"

The situation is eerily similar to one that occurred years before on Naboo, when he gave a promise to a dying man—a promise that changed the galaxy. "I'm sorry—"

Unlike Qui-Gon, she doesn't speak. Even as he gathers her into his arms, the life is already fading from her eyes. She won't get to impart any last words, and that seems unspeakably cruel, because a woman like Padme, someone with so much strength, _should_ be able to have her final say.

Instead, all she gets is a half smile as she lets her head fall so that she's gazing in the direction of her babies.

Her children, who are very much alive.

It's the last thing she sees.

For that, at least, Obi-Wan is thankful.

"Padme..."

When Qui-Gon died, Obi-Wan sat with him for nearly a quarter of an hour, holding his body and crying. He can still remember the feeling of his master's body cooling under his fingers, slipping further away from life with every passing moment. Until a few weeks ago, it had been the most heart-wrenching experience he's ever had to live through.

That memory will never leave him. He will always recall how it felt to hold his master as he faded away. He's gone through that once. He doesn't want to do it again.

Behind where he's holding Padme, he can hear the loud squalls of the babies. Their cries echo in his ears, more painful now that he knows their mother is never again going to hold either of them again. They don't have her anymore, and while he hardly thinks he will be an adequate substitute, he knows that they need him now.

Carefully, he settles Padme's body back on the floor and goes to the babies.

It is, he knows, how Padme would want it.


	12. Part 1: Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: **No, I own nothing.

**Author's Note:**

Prismatic: I always wished that the Star Wars EU would explore the parallels between Anakin and Obi-Wan a little more. I think you're right—if Obi-Wan had been willing to show Anakin some of his flaws, Anakin might have trusted him with more of his own. Instead, he turned to Palpatine.

wildskysong: Yay! Hundredth reviewer! :)

Kimsa Ki-Lurria: I'm glad that you noticed how Padme didn't get some drawn-out speech. It kind of annoys me in movies that the dying person has something oh-so-epic to say, and _then_ they die. I didn't want to be too clichéd here.

MegumiFuu: I completely agree with you! I love Star Wars to pieces, but I never liked the whole "dying of a broken heart" thing. I also agree with you about the friendship aspect of Anakin and Obi-Wan's relationship. I've always seen their relationship more as that of brother/brother or father/son (often a mixture of both), but not slash.

Aliceandjasper: The main reason that I killed Padme off was because, like you said, with the way I took the plot in this story, I couldn't see her and Anakin reconciling. I thought it was a far better aid to the plot to have her die and propel Anakin towards a better destiny than it would have been to keep her alive and have her become a stagnant, un-used character.

Thanks to everyone else who reviewed!

**Feedback:** Makes me as happy as a day off from work (which I have tomorrow, so I'll have some time to write)!

* * *

When Anakin was a little boy, about ten years old, he got into a fight with another padawan in the Temple cafeteria. The other boy had suggested that it wasn't that he didn't have a father—it was that "whores don't usually know who knock them up." He won the ensuing fight, he remembers. In fact, by the time it was over, the other boy had a black eye and a bloody nose. They never even drew their lightsabers, and though the other boy had more formal training, Anakin had been highly motivated.

He still remembers how the fight ended.

Just as he was about to deliver a final punch to the boy's face, Master Windu had entered the melee of overturned cafeteria tables and spilt food, scooped Anakin up around the waist and had, much to Anakin's dismay, dropped him at the feet of Obi-Wan, who had just arrived on the scene. "This is completely unacceptable, Kenobi!" he remembers Master Windu declaring, eyes flashing. "Starting fights in the cafeteria, pummeling other padawans—this behavior cannot be condoned!"

Obi-Wan returned Mace Windu's angry stare with perfect calm. Anakin will never forget the composure in his blue eyes as he replied, "With all due respect, Master Windu, I would like an explanation for how this fight started. I don't believe that Anakin would hit someone unless he was provoked."

Right then, Anakin was sure Obi-Wan was the bravest man alive. Not only had he stood up to Mace Windu, but he'd done it in such a cool, collected way that it had made Master Windu's own anger look foolish. Somehow, he'd managed to take the situation and stop it from being a total catastrophe for Anakin.

Naturally, Obi-Wan had still punished Anakin for hitting the other boy, but the punishment had been light enough—two extra hours of meditation—once Obi-Wan had heard what the other boy had said. Punishment or not, it was almost worth it to see Mace Windu get taken down a notch by Obi-Wan. Of course, his master never admitted to doing that, and his disappointment in Anakin for resorting to violence had been enough to make Anakin end up regretting that he'd hit the other boy.

Still, the situation hadn't been nearly as bad as it could have been. Obi-Wan had managed to help Anakin get over the hurt that stemmed from the comment about his mother, and after the two hours of meditation were over, everything went back to normal. If anything, he and Obi-Wan were a little closer than before, Anakin having gained faith that Obi-Wan would defend him, even to people like the formidable Mace Windu.

Back then, it had seemed like Obi-Wan had been able to fix just about anything.

He is, Anakin knows, no longer at the age where that is possible.

"Just once more, Obi-Wan, please," he pleads under his breath as he all but crash-lands his speeder on the balcony of their apartments. Just once more, his former master has to have found a way to fix things. He has to have. Anakin doesn't even want to begin to consider the consequences that he knows he'll face if Obi-Wan hasn't managed to create a near-miracle.

_Please, Obi-Wan. Please, please, please._

The apartment is silent when Anakin enters it, and for a few moments, he dares to hope that perhaps Sidious was bluffing—that he didn't really try to kill Anakin's family after all. "Padme?" he calls, a little tentatively. "Obi-Wan?"

Nothing. No answer. Not at first.

He catches the scent left by blaster fire in exactly the same moment that Obi-Wan answers him, calling back in that cultured voice that, when Anakin was little, he tried to copy in any situation where he felt he needed to sound grown-up. That voice has always comforted him, but he's never before been quite so relieved to hear it—to know that Obi-Wan is alive. "Where are you?" he calls back.

"In the bedroom."

It should be comforting. Really, it should be. But it's _not_.

It can't be-not really-because there's something wrong with Obi-Wan's tone—an emotion that isn't usually there—but he assumes he'll have the chance to deal with it once he's seen with his own eyes that his family is all right. "What happened—?" he starts to say as he turns the corner to Obi-Wan's bedroom.

Obi-Wan is seated on the bed with the twins. There are no blaster marks, no bodies of clones, and nothing to speak of a fight except for a burn in Obi-Wan's clothing near his shoulder. At first glance, it seems as though everything has been resolved.

Only, Padme isn't there.

One look at Obi-Wan's face, and he knows with absolute certainty that her absence isn't something he can fix. She would be here if it was possible in any way, protecting her children and offering support. If she's not here, it's because she _can't_ be, and if Obi-Wan has left her, there's only one reason that he can think of for that.

"No." His voice sounds hollow, even to himself… almost as hollow as Obi-Wan's expression. "Force, no."

"Anakin, I'm sorry—"

No. _No, no, no, no, no_.

His whole world is falling apart. It's shattering around him, leaving him with the shards of all his broken promises and dreams. Everything he's ever wanted—it's breaking apart, but somehow he can't feel anything besides numb, as though his insides have turned to ice.

Frozen. Ice. He can't _feel_ this. Maybe because he's feeling _too much_.

Force, _no_.

"What happened?" he says again, turning his gaze to the babies. Luke is quiet in Obi-Wan's arms, his tiny eyes blinking slowly; Leia is settled on the bed next to him. Neither is asleep, but both are silent, as if they have found a way to partially understand the gravity of what has happened.

He should... do something. Just do something. But that something-it seems so far away, so intangible that he doesn't know where to even begin. Is this how Obi-Wan felt when he walked through the Temple and saw the bodies? Was he this lost? How did he ever find his way again?

Bile rises in Anakin's throat, brought on by the thoughts of everything he's done to get to this point. He hadn't wanted to face it before—he doesn't want to _now_—but he can't escape the nagging feeling that he let this happen. He made a deal, and now the dealer has come to collect. But the price—the price is far too high.

And he doesn't know what to do. He just—there has to be _something_, and for lack of anything else, he stumbles towards the bed, reaching out to take Leia in his arms. He has to keep moving, has to keep himself busy, because if he sits, he knows that he will shatter just as surely as the world around him already has.

"The babies—they're all right."

"Yes," Obi-Wan agrees, pity hanging in his eyes. "They are."

"The babies are... fine."

"Yes," he says again. "Anakin—"

"Don't—just, please, don't—don't say it—I don't want to hear it—"

"You have to—"

"STOP!"

He hastily puts Leia back down on the bed as she begins crying, her loud squalls startling Luke into doing the same. Anakin wants to cry too, wants to scream as he pushes back against the knowledge that is slowly seeping into him no matter how desperately he tries to ignore it. "This can't be happening," he chokes out, leaning back against the wall, then sliding down to sit at the base of it. "No..."

Everything is wrong and, frantic to suppress it, he snakes his hands into his hair, gripping tightly until it hurts and his scalp burns. That's fine—he'll take the physical pain. It's better than what he knows he's going to feel as soon as he lets himself think.

"She took a shot to the chest," Obi-Wan murmurs, getting up off the bed and placing Luke beside his sister. "It was quick."

"SHUT UP!"

Obi-Wan doesn't. He does what he has always done: he refuses to give in. "You have to face it, Anakin," he whispers, sinking to the floor next to his former padawan. He's blunt and unyielding, refusing to let Anakin ignore the truth, but at least he's still here, and Anakin hates him for that, even as he loves him more for exactly that same reason.

Fingertips brush over Anakin's shoulder as Obi-Wan kneels beside him, and before Anakin even realizes what he's doing, he's lashed out at his master, tackling him back to the floor. It's not that he's angry at him—it's the circumstances he's railing against—but he knows Obi-Wan will take it. He's always taken it, every bit of Anakin's ill-will, and he still comes back. Anakin can't understand how that is, but he needs to know-needs to know for _certain_-just how far it extends. With Padme, there was a limit. Is there one with his Obi-Wan?

Just how much can he do before he drives Obi-Wan away?

"Nothing, Anakin. Nothing you can do will make me love you less. I may not like or approve of the things you do or even the person you have become, but I will always love you."

He... he'd said that out loud. Obi-Wan heard him say it out loud. But the answer—it's unbelievable, and he's not sure that he does believes it, so he pushes harder, pinning Obi-Wan to the floor with a grip strong enough to bruise. Obi-Wan offers very little resistance—just enough to attempt to take some of the pressure off his wrists.

This is so pointless, and Obi-Wan isn't even fighting—

"I will always love you, Anakin, even if I have to kill you. But even then, I will still be there."

It's everything he needs to hear—has needed to hear since he was a little boy. To listen to it now is heartbreaking, painful in a way he'll never be able to fix, but so right and perfect that it just about breaks him. It _does_ break him.

Giving up, he lets himself sink down against his master's chest.

"Obi-Wan, oh Force, she's—she's—"

He feels himself shake, clutching at his master like a pathetic youngling, but he can't think of anything else to do, and Obi-Wan isn't pushing him off. He lets Anakin lay on top of him, pressed against his chest with enough weight so that it must be difficult to draw breath. And he hugs him. He raises his arms and holds Anakin, pulling him closer until Anakin can hardly breathe either. That feeling—it's good. He feels safe.

"She can't be—can't—can't—" he gasps, shaking as he buries his face against Obi-Wan's shoulder, trying to hide, knowing that he _can't_. "No—"

"I'm sorry," Obi-Wan whispers, raising a hand to gently stroke Anakin's hair, like he used to do when Anakin was young and had been woken by a nightmare.

Except, this is no nightmare. He'll never wake up from this.

The reality smothers him. Unable to hold back the tidal wave of emotions rising up within him, he gives in to his grief and lets out the sobs that have been hiding in his chest for far too long. Oh, and it _aches_... Hurts. So much, it hurts.

"It's m-my fault, Obi-Wan," he chokes, his words hitching with his breath. Everything he's tried to do has been all wrong, and it's destroyed everything. He's killed so many people—there's no going back now, but he doesn't want to be this person anymore. He wants to be the man Padme loved.

It's so terribly bitter to figure that out now.

"I—" How can he articulate that he thinks he deserves to die, wishes that he were dead? How can he say that he doesn't think he even deserves that kind of release?

It doesn't matter: Obi-Wan understands what he's not saying. "You can turn back, Anakin," he promises, stroking Anakin's hair and back, little light touches that Anakin eventually realizes are actually a promise that he's not alone. Every small touch is reassurance that Obi-Wan isn't going to leave him to face this on his own.

Anakin can't even begin to comprehend how his master is willing to stay.

"Everything can't be fixed, but we can try, and it's what Padme would want—"

"I let her get killed, Master—"

"You made decisions that led to her death, yes. But it wasn't only you, Anakin. So many bad decisions were made. So much went wrong—was done wrong... but you have the chance to set some of it right."

"Yes, y-yes, I know," he murmurs. "Padme—"

The idea that she is dead is overwhelming. Somewhere in this apartment, he knows that her body is probably just cooling, the last vestiges of life slipping away. None of them will ever be able to bring her back, no matter what Sidious might have promised about creating life with the midichlorians. Even if she could be brought back, nothing would be like it was before. Too much has happened, and the people who together were Anakin Skywalker and Padme Amidala no longer exist. It will have to be enough for him to just become Anakin Skywalker again, separate, away from her, though still influenced by the life she lived and the love she gave.

He will have to let her go.

And it _hurts_.

"It can't all be for Padme, Anakin. You can't be good for someone else. It has to be _you_—you have to see why power won't save you, or anyone else for that matter."

Obi-Wan is right. Padme would want him to turn back to the light, but doing it only for her will never work—will never last. If he tries to return to the light for the sake of her memory alone, it will simply be another quest to gain something—in this case, absolution and the approval of someone no longer living. He will always be searching, always trying to atone, and when he fails, he'll be as vulnerable to falling as he ever was... and if he falls a second time, he knows he'll never have the strength needed to turn away from the darkness again.

Truthfully, he's not even sure that he has the strength now. What's being asked of him is so very difficult, but staying as he is will only destroy the things he loves.

Destroy them _more_, that is.

Looking back at the mess his life has become since he gave in to Sidious and all his own worst instincts, he's fairly certain that he's already accepted that all he'll receive from the dark side is eventual devastation. Power, yes, but what is the sense of power if he has to be alone to have it? He's already lost Padme, and the pain of it is akin to something cleaving through his very being—he doesn't feel whole anymore. To lose everyone else as well would be unthinkable. No power is worth the agony that would cause.

It's not worth it, and the moment that he realizes that, he feels a shift inside of him.

His struggles aren't over, but the dark side's unquestioned hold on him is.

However tenuous, he once again belongs to the _light_.

Inhaling deeply, Anakin rolls off Obi-Wan's chest and onto the floor, giving the other man at least a little room to breathe. He's not ready to let go of his master yet, which, thankfully, Obi-Wan seems to know; he sits up, pulling Anakin with him when he leans back against the wall. The continued contact is a relief, and Anakin sinks back into his embrace, leaning against Obi-Wan's chest and pressing his face into the curve of his master's neck and shoulder.

"Did he send clones?"

A gentle hand strokes through his hair again, smoothing back sweaty strands. "Ten of them."

"He told me, you know. Tonight. When I went to see him, he told me."

"Told you?"

"What he was going to do. That's why he wanted to see me. I got there, and he told me what he'd done, and that it was too late to stop him."

The muscles under Anakin's cheek tense for a short moment, the only show of blatant shock and revulsion that Obi-Wan will allow him to see. For the time being—just as in almost any other situation—he will be the strong one, the more stable of the two of them, because that is what Anakin needs.

"He told me that once I had nothing left, I would embrace the dark side like he had." And, really, what if he had come back to find Padme, Obi-Wan, and the twins all dead? What then?

He knows what would have happened then: he would have done exactly as Sidious predicted, because there would have been nothing else left for him _to_ do.

"Sidious was right, Obi-Wan," he whispers. "I know he was. If I came back and you were all dead, I would have irrevocably turned. Any good that was left in me would have been wiped out. There would have been nothing left. I might not have followed Sidious-might have tried to kill him, actually, but I would have been dark. Always dark. The kind you can't ever come back from, because you have no reason to try."

The hand which slips under his chin is a surprise, and at first he fights it, not wanting to look Obi-Wan fully in the face. He's afraid of what he'll see there—of the possibility that he'll find something he can't stand to face. Obi-Wan could abandon him—he'd have every right to after all that Anakin has done—and the possibility terrifies him. He doesn't trust himself anymore, and he's not sure he ever will again. But Obi-Wan—he trusts Obi-Wan, and he can't lose him, because he needs him. Along with the twins, he's the only person Anakin has left.

"It didn't happen, Anakin." His fingers smooth over the curve of Anakin's jaw, soft and gentle, a comfort that Anakin knows he doesn't deserve but still craves. "It didn't happen, and it won't happen. We're going to leave here tonight and go somewhere away from Coruscant—away from where Sidious can find us."

"Until you're sure that I won't turn back to the dark side?" he asks, finally letting himself meet Obi-Wan's eyes, because as much as it hurts, he has to know what Obi-Wan is thinking.

He shouldn't have worried. Obi-Wan's gaze holds only light—pure, unadulterated light, and something else that makes Anakin's heart beat a little faster: faith. There's so much faith there, and seeing it in Obi-Wan makes him think that maybe he should have a little himself.

"No, Anakin. No. Time to heal. For both of us. Then, I think, time to plan."

He leans into Obi-Wan's touch where it's settled on his neck, heavy and comforting. "Plan?"

"Yes," he agrees with a smile. "I think that we both agree there are a lot of things that are going to need fixing."

"Like the Jedi Order?"

"Yes. But we'll get to that later, and we'll certainly need help."

Anakin doesn't ask who will help them. Asking would simply be pointless—Obi-Wan won't tell him yet. His master would say it isn't a matter of trust but merely of prudence, though Anakin knows better... and he knows that Obi-Wan is right. Obi-Wan is far too intelligent to hand over confidential information before Anakin has truly proven that he's returned to the light. Forgiven or not, it will take a long time for Anakin to earn back Obi-Wan's trust.

"I—yes."

A cry from the bed startles Anakin into pulling away from Obi-Wan. Leia. And she's beginning to fuss. That-she needs her father. It's not that he wants to pull away from Obi-Wan, because he's really not ready to yet, but his daughter needs him, and that comes before anything that _he_ might need.

It _always_ will.

Obi-Wan's steady hand under his elbow prompts him to clamber to his feet and step over to the bed. Once there, he sinks down against the sheets as he turns his attention fully to his daughter. She's such a beautiful baby, with a perfect face and a dark smattering of hair dusting across her head, so like Padme that the resemblance is a bit frightening.

His wife may be dead, but she's still part of their children.

"We need to get the twins and leave, Anakin. We won't have much time."

Luke settles calmly into Obi-Wan's arms, just as, surprisingly, Leia settles into Anakin's. This time there's no fuss, no tantrum—just calm. It takes him a moment to realize that it's because she isn't sensing the darkness in him.

Up until now, he hadn't really believed that he'd truly turned away from it. To know that he has—it makes him slump in relief, allowing a freedom that he hasn't experienced in a very long time to wash over him. It's something like a baptism of fire, burning away the last remnants of Darth Vader.

Oh, the darkness is not entirely banished. But it's not _him_ anymore. He's fighting now. He doesn't _belong_ to it anymore.

"Before we go, I want to see Padme."

The hesitancy on Obi-Wan's face is so readable as to be almost tangible, but he doesn't protest. "If that's what you need."

Anakin nods. "It is."

For a moment more he doesn't move, but only stares at Anakin, his gaze deeply searching. "All right," he agrees finally. "I'll take the children and get a few things packed." As Anakin sets Leia back on the bed and turns to leave the room he adds, "But, Anakin? Be quick."

"I will," he promises.

He doesn't need much time, anyway. All he needs is the chance to give her the apology she deserves.

* * *

"I never meant for any of this to happen, you know."

Padme is as beautiful in death as she was in life. Not as breathtaking perhaps—her vitality was always part of her charm—but still every bit as _beautiful_. Anakin never could get over her beauty. He never could get over any part of her. Truthfully, he doubts that he ever will.

"I told myself that I gave into Palpatine so that I could save you, but I'm not sure that's fair to say. It sounds a little like I'm blaming you... and I'm not. I could never do that."

A little hesitantly, he reaches out and strokes back a piece of her dark hair that has fallen across her cheek. Her skin is cold.

"I think the real reason that I fell was that I wanted the power to save you. I couldn't bear the thought of losing you, and so I began to crave the ability to prevent it. It's not the same thing as just simply not wanting you to die. What I ended up wanting—it didn't matter to me what _you_ wanted. It wasn't for _you_ anymore. It was for _me_, because I couldn't handle losing you. It was selfish, and now we've all paid for it."

It's an effort to choke back his sob, but he does, because he's tired of crying. Crying won't help anything now. Perhaps he'll do it later when they're safely away from here, when Sidious isn't an imminent threat, but for now he's done it enough.

"I love you," he murmurs, smoothing his fingers over the cool skin of her too-pale cheek. "I love you so much, and I'm sorry I couldn't save you. I'm sorry for everything I did."

More than anything, he wishes he could speak to her just once more. He wants to see that tiny little smile, hear her whisper a soft "Ani" like she'd sometimes do when she was waking up. He'll never forget how the early morning sun looked on her face when she first rolled over to wish him good morning.

Most of all, he wants to hear her tell him that she forgives him.

Her forgiveness, he knows, is something he will never hear her give. Perhaps that's his punishment for everything he's done. He can't think of anything more fitting.

"I love you," he tells her once more, whispering it like an intimate secret, though there's no one left who would care to know. "I love you."

And he does. He always will, but now he's got to move on. That is what is required of him, and it is what she would want him to do.

In this, at least, he can honor her last desire.

Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath and leans down to gently kiss her forehead. Then, without looking back, he walks out the door and toward where he knows his children will be.


	13. Part 1: Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: **No, I own nothing.

**Author's Note:**

This is the end of Part One. There's going to be a hiatus before the next part—a month or two. I've got the second part started, but it's not finished yet. Thanks to everyone for reading, and thanks for all the reviews. It's all very much appreciated.

xBrainsx: I'm going to write the second part of this story. :)

Anakin T Skywalker: I appreciate the reviews no matter what.

Capitano: I love the father/son dynamic also. And, yes, Sidious will not be happy.

Prismatic: I always wished that the Star Wars EU would explore the parallels between Anakin and Obi-Wan a little more. I think you're right—if Obi-Wan had been willing to show Anakin some of his flaws, Anakin might have trusted him with more of his own. Instead, he turned to Palpatine.

Kimsa Ki-Lurria: Obi-Wan has always been my favorite, too, but I've always enjoyed Anakin also, even if his ultimate decisions just kill me. I'm glad I was able to make him likeable for you. And, yes, the action will probably pick up, once I get the second part written.

MegumiFuu: I completely agree with you! I love Star Wars to pieces, but I never liked the whole "dying of a broken heart" thing. I also agree with you about the friendship aspect of Anakin and Obi-Wan's relationship. I've always seen their relationship more as that of brother/brother or father/son (often a mixture of both), but not slash.

Aliceandjasper: You're very right in saying that Anakin is not completely all right yet. The next part will probably partially be about Anakin dealing with the lasting effects of his decisions, both on himself and the world around him. I also can't express how completely happy I am that I was able to make the present tense work for you! I had never written in this tense before, so I'm excited it turned out well. :)

Kyer: Eek! The droids! I completely forgot about them. Well spotted—I'll have to try to fix that in the second part.

MegumiFuu: I'm glad you caught the thing about forgiveness but not trust. That was something I really wanted to get across. Obi-Wan may love Anakin, but he's not stupid, and his trust has to be earned.

Thanks to everyone else who reviewed!

**Feedback:** Is incredible!

* * *

Tatooine is exactly how Anakin remembers it. There's too much sand, heat that never really bothered him, and a dryness in the air that seems to seep into his skin and leave it feeling as parched as the land before him. So many memories linger in this place. Some of them are good, some are bad, but it is _home_, as odd as that sounds.

"He won't look here," Anakin states quietly, dismounting from the eopie that he's riding. Luke is asleep in his arms, so soundly that the movement doesn't disturb him at all. "This was a good idea."

Obi-Wan, holding Leia, slides from his own mount to stand beside Anakin. "I certainly hope so. With any luck, he'll assume that there are too many bad memories here for you to return."

"In some ways, he's correct. I don't want to be here, but there's something right about it. I understand that."

It's difficult to look at his former master without his stare wandering down towards Obi-Wan's arm. He can't see the bandages that are there—the robes cover them—but Anakin knows they exist, hiding a nasty cut that's the result of removing the Force-repressing chip—the one that was to activate if its host left the apartment—in Obi-Wan's arm. He'd had Anakin do it before they left the apartment. There hadn't been time for anything else, and though Anakin has seen many things in war that make his stomach clench and roll, digging a chip—one that was implanted on Anakin's orders—out of Obi-Wan's arm with nothing more than a knife was almost too much.

Unlike when it was implanted, there had been no time to go to a medicenter.

"Memories inevitably help form us, Anakin, but we can choose how. I know that what happened with your mother was painful, and it will affect you, but you have the opportunity to decide exactly _how_ it will."

"I hope it will make me stronger," he admits, shifting Luke in his arms as he and Obi-Wan begin walking towards the tiny hut that's settled against the side of a cliff. "I won't let it destroy me."

Obi-Wan nods and tucks Leia more securely inside the folds of his cloak. He's been quiet since they sold the transport that they took to Mos Eisley, a behavior that Anakin has come to understand means that he's thinking deeply. More than likely, he's considering every piece of evidence that they've left behind—anything that could lead someone to them. Anakin isn't as worried. The Emperor will have a difficult time tracking them—they hopped between several different planets, changing their transport at each one, even going so far as to make use of an old abandoned ship they'd found on one world.

"Then it won't," Obi-Wan declares after a few moments. "If you don't _let_ your memories destroy you, then they _won't_."

It sounds like a promise.

Tatooine is exactly how Obi-Wan remembers it. There's too much sand, heat that has always made him feel as though he's roasting, and a dryness in the air that leaves him longing to dive into the closest body of water that he can find. He has never much liked Tatooine. In his mind, this is where the Sith first revealed their continued existence. In some ways, this place was the beginning of the end.

Now he can only hope that it will simply be a beginning.

"No one ever comes out here," Anakin tells him, apparently content to drop their conversation about memories. "I would know."

"Why? Did you try when you were a youngling?"

Anakin answers his wry smile with a tiny one of his own. How long will it be before he truly smiles again? Obi-Wan misses it—misses the way it brightened Anakin's eyes and reflected a kind of happiness that he hasn't seen in his former padawan since his descent to the dark side.

"No. My mother would have had my head."

"Punishment never seemed to have too much of a hold over you. If I recall correctly, you still snuck out to the garbage pits when you were my padawan."

"I was as nervous about sneaking back _into_ the Temple as I ever was about sneaking _out_. Getting caught by you was never a pleasant thought."

"Catching you was never a pleasant task. Personally, I look forward to seeing what you do the first time Luke or Leia disobeys the rules."

Like Anakin, Luke and Leia _will_ disobey—all children do, at some point or another. Obi-Wan is infinitely thankful that, when they do, they will be faced with Anakin Skywalker and not Darth Vader. These children will have their father. They will have the man that Obi-Wan knows. They will have a _good man_ raising them.

"I—do you really think we can do this, Obi-Wan?" Anakin asks as they stop in front of the small hut. "Raise them like this, I mean?"

The weight of Leia in his arms is a constant reminder of her presence, just as much as Anakin's repeated concentration on the small bundle in his own arms is a reminder of Luke's. These are Anakin's children. These are the children that have become his first priority, just as, he suspects, they have become Anakin's.

"Yes, I know that we can."

"_We_, right? You're... not going to leave?"

And there is that insecurity that Obi-Wan has never really realized was so strong before. He never truly saw it—never really let himself see it—as Anakin was growing up, but now he's sure he'll never overlook it again. "I'll be here," he promises.

The emotion in Anakin's face seems to calm, smoothing into something that has settled for the time being. It's a comforting sight, though not nearly as comforting as the warmth that's shinning in his eyes, burning like a tiny fire. This warmth is so different from the raw heat that had been in his gaze before. That heat had been destructive, composed of fiery reds and yellows. This heat—it's something deeper, hotter, but less threatening.

This fire is blue.

It is blue like Anakin's eyes.

"This can be home, Anakin," he says slowly, cradling Leia with the arm that isn't bandaged as he reaches out to open the door to the hut. "If you let it, it can be. We can heal here."

Anakin's lips quirk into a sort of half-smile. "And then, once we're done with that, we can figure out how to help heal the rest of the galaxy."

Yes. It will be a long process—building something back up always takes far longer than tearing it down—but it's something that they can't fail at. They'll put their own lives back together first, and then they'll tackle the duty that they both know they'll eventually have to face. Obi-Wan doesn't fear it like he suspects Anakin does. How can he when this duty is far less daunting than the one he thought he was going to have to face? He would rather be charged with helping to fix something—even something as big as the galaxy—than with killing the man who is like his son, his brother, and his best friend.

As Anakin walks past him into the hut, Obi-Wan gives him a tiny smile. After a few moments, he follows him, letting the door slide shut behind them.

In the distance, two twin suns slowly begin to sink below the horizon.

Soon, it will be a new day.

**End of Part I**


	14. Part 2: Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Sadly, I still own nothing. This has not changed since I last updated in June.

**Author's Note:**

On to Part Two! I have all but the final two scenes done, so I felt pretty safe posting this. Thank you to everyone for hanging in there and waiting for me to get this done. I appreciate the continued support.

puts foot in mouth: Thank you so much! I really love to hear that I managed to convey the characters' emotions convincingly, since that's the part of the story I care the most about. I'm better with character development than with action sequences. I'm also glad you liked my take on the Jedi's flawed views. That's always a fun topic to explore with Anakin and Obi-Wan, mainly because attachment is Obi-Wan's main weakness as a Jedi, and actually something that I don't really view as a weakness at all.

Anakin T Skywalker: Yes, the Force-sensitive twins are going to give Obi-Wan and Anakin quite a run for their money.

Hazelcloud: Yes, Anakin does need a little bit of hope. He's finally starting to get it.

Kyer: I'm guessing they'll fare the same way that Obi-Wan did between ROTS and ANH. Somehow Obi-Wan was able to avoid the Empire all those years, so Anakin and the twins will probably be able to do it with him. I have to laugh at the idea of Anakin and Obi-Wan shopping for baby supplies, though. Poor guys.

xBrainsx: Thank you! Their emotions are quite fun to write.

ObiBettina7: I'm very glad you liked the ending—it took me a while to come up with.

Kimsa Ki-Lurria: Anakin has a long way to go before he's completely whole again. He's got a lot of things to fix, both in himself and as a result of the things he's done.

Jedi Angel001: Yes, they've both got a lot of healing to do.

Siriusly Loopy: Nope, not the end—just the end of the first part!

MegumiFuu: It is the clam before the storm, indeed. And I was always sad that we never got to see Daddy!Anakin. With all the trouble he gave Obi-Wan, he deserved a little parental pay-back.

jedigal125: Thank you!

**Feedback:** Keeps me from turning to the dark side! Haha, just kidding. I'm on whatever side Obi-Wan's on. ;)

**-------------------------**

**Five Years Later**

Tatooine's twin suns are just barely sneaking over the horizon when Anakin wakes. It's early, but the room is already warming, hinting at the promise of another hot day. He hates the heat. When he'd been a child he'd hardly noticed it—he'd never known anything different—but after living on Coruscant, where the weather is controlled, he's found the smothering warmth hard to get used to again.

Sighing, Anakin sits up in bed. If he had his way, he'd turn over and fall back asleep for another few hours. He'd really like nothing better, but the sounds of Obi-Wan puttering around in the kitchen, making breakfast, are enough to tug him from the enticing clutches of slumber. The twins will be up soon, and he should go help Obi-Wan.

Apparently, sleeping late is a luxury he can no longer afford.

Donning his Jedi robe—brown now, instead of the black Darth Vader wore—he slips out of bed and pads softly into the living area of their tiny hut. The place is so small, though it's better than when they first arrived here. Back then, it had only been a living area and a raised kitchen and bathroom, along with a small basement underneath the dwelling. At least now they've added two small rooms off the back—a bedroom for the twins and another for him—and while he still doesn't like the fact that Obi-Wan doesn't have a room of his own but instead sleeps in an alcove in the living area, it's better than nothing. At least they have a home.

At least they're all _alive_.

"Morning, Anakin. I was beginning to think you'd sleep all day."

Muttering something completely unflattering under his breath, Anakin sinks down into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. "The sun's hardly even up, Master."

"And by the sound of it, you wish _you_ weren't."

"I heard you in the kitchen, and I knew the twins would be up soon anyway."

"Honestly, Anakin, I was capable of handling _you_ as a child when you were hungry—I'm fairly certain I'm qualified to watch Luke and Leia."

Of course he is. He's probably more qualified than Anakin. "Whatever," he mutters instead, reaching for the cup of caf that Obi-Wan sets before him. He can't have a battle of wits this early in the morning—not with Obi-Wan. His former master is too skilled with words.

Sighing heavily, Anakin runs a hand over his face. There are things he needs to do today: run into town to get some supplies, fix the power generator in the basement that has been acting glitchy, and possibly even repair one of Luke's toys. The need to accomplish leaves him feeling restless and irritated.

At least, that's what he'd like to think it is.

Obi-Wan, apparently, knows better. "You're on edge."

"I don't know why," he admits, taking a generous drink of caf. Too hot. It burns going down, and he finds himself grimacing. "There's no reason for me to be."

"Have you considered that it might be because of reasons not immediately obvious?"

In other words, has he considered that it might be a warning in the Force? Of course he's considered that. The problem is, he doesn't trust his own instincts so much anymore. How can he really ever trust himself again after what he did?

"Do _you_ sense something out of place?" he asks instead.

Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow and pauses from where he's getting out a plate. "That wasn't an answer, Anakin. I asked _you_."

"I don't know. Maybe."

"You need to learn to trust yourself again. You're intuition is quite often valuable."

"And when it's not, I end up destroying the entire Jedi Order," he snaps, running a hand through his hair. It's unruly, just like it always is when he wakes up. "Forgive me if I'm a little hesitant to follow my instincts."

Obi-Wan doesn't look convinced. "That was your problem, Anakin--you _didn't_ follow your instincts. You knew that giving into the dark side was wrong, but you did it anyway."

It's too early for this. He's not ready to have a discussion of this magnitude. Maybe later when the fog in his brain has cleared, he'll be ready to talk about this. Or, maybe not. Maybe never, at least if he has his way. "I'm not awake enough to talk about this. Just let me eat my breakfast, Obi-Wan."

"Certainly. Right as soon as we finish discussing whether or not the Force is giving you a warning."

"For the love of—" he starts, but then cuts himself off, clenching his fist around his cup. "Obi-Wan, just admit that you've picked up something in the Force, too."

"I never denied that I did." Calmly, he puts out a plate of food for both Luke and Leia. Undoubtedly, he can feel them beginning to stir, their consciousness in the Force becoming more defined. Anakin can sense them as well—they'll be up in a few minutes. "I feel something also."

"You don't look all that worried."

"As you said, it's too early in the morning. I'm sure you'll recall, I'm a morning person by necessity, not by choice."

"And_ I'm_ a morning person because _you've_ forced me to be."

Obi-Wan laughs. "That's simply untrue. I've encouraged—not forced. Now, this... uneasy feeling that you're receiving: have you meditated on it?"

No, he hasn't. Up until about two minutes ago, he was still trying to chalk it up to stress. "No."

"I have, but I can't sense what it centers around. It's... something elusive."

"I know. Just unsettling, as if something's about to happen."

"I feel the same."

Anakin smiles, enjoying the easy way that Obi-Wan admits that. They don't always agree, of course, but it has become a far more common occurance. That began after Anakin was knighted—he and Obi-Wan often were more likely to see eye-to-eye on things. Mostly, it had been Anakin's doing; once he was classified as Obi-Wan's equal, he'd stopped feeling the desperate need to prove that he was as good as his master. Now, it's even easier. In some ways, they've become opposite sides of the same coin—different, but inseparable, always complimentary to each other. Their opinions, even when different, fit together; they are a seamless team, just as they were during the Clone Wars, but devoid of the certain amount of friction that they'd still possessed even at that point.

In short, Anakin no longer has to balance what Obi-Wan says with what Palpatine tells him. Before, while he trusted Obi-Wan with his life, there was always lingering doubt when it came to trusting him with his thoughts. He never quite believed that his master would still look at him the same way if he showed him what really existed in his mind. That distrust was one of the major factors Palpatine used to tear their relationship apart—and he _did_ tear it apart. Obi-Wan saw the absolute _worst_ of him... and somehow _still came back_. He will always come back. Anakin is sure of that, and even if it doesn't make divulging the less pleasant parts of himself any more enjoyable, it does make doing so_ possbile_. He trusts Obi-Wan now.

It's himself he doesn't always have faith in.

"Any ideas?"

"About what we should do?" Obi-Wan shrugs. "Right now, I suggest that we give your children breakfast."

As if on cue—and, really, they are, because Obi-Wan knew they were coming—Luke and Leia patter into the kitchen, rubbing their eyes and still looking a bit sleepy. "Hi, Daddy," Luke mutters as walks over to Anakin and climbs up onto his lap, his sandy blond hair flopping around in a way resembling, as Obi-Wan often teasingly tells him, the messy fur of a bantha.

"Good-morning," Obi-Wan greets them pleasantly as he pushes a plate of food toward Luke before heading to get his own. Leia, unsurprisingly, trails after him, her tiny lips pursed in frustration when he doesn't stop for her.

"Ben?"

"Mmm?"

"Ben!"

Leia is Anakin at her age. Striking. Opinionated. Loving. Remarkable. Anakin doesn't always know quite how to handle her. He loves her to pieces, of course, but sometimes she confuses him, because he sees himself, and he's not quite sure how to deal with the things in his personality—in _hers_—that he doesn't like or that he fears. In seeing himself, he sees what she _could _become—what _he_ became—and it scares him.

Obi-Wan, however, is entirely comfortable with her.

Glancing down at the little girl who's planted in front of him, sporting a look of stalwart determination and waving her small arms in the air, begging to be lifted up, he merely raises an eyebrow. "Leia, where are your manners?"

She pauses, blinks her large brown eyes—_Padme's_ eyes—and then adds, "Please?!"

A tiny smile peeking from under his beard—Leia has that effect on him—Obi-Wan places his food on the table and reaches down to scoop her up into his arms. She laughs happily and wraps her arms around his neck.

Anakin can almost hear the thoughts in her head. _Mission accomplished. Objective achieved._ She's five years old, and she's already manipulating situations to her liking. This does not bode well for her teenage years. Maybe he'll just let Obi-Wan be the parent once the hormones kick in. He'll take a vacation or something and come back once she's stable, because if her teenage years are anything like _his_ were, he's not sure he'll survive.

"You're getting far too big for this, Leia," Obi-Wan says dryly, though he still lets her cling as he retrieves the last bits of food and heads for the table. "You're making lunch, Anakin," he declares before setting her down in her own chair.

Of course he is. Of _course_, because Obi-Wan just _knows_ how much he loves cooking—

"I know you hate to cook, but someone needs to make another run into town for supplies—"

"I could get the supplies—"

"And since I made breakfast, I don't think it would be too much to ask."

Yes, and right there is a hint of Obi-Wan's days as a master. The tiny little lift in his eyebrow, as he fixes Anakin with something of a stern speculation, as if he's sizing up just how long he's going to need to make his ensuing lecture. Anakin _hates_ that look.

"Fine." At least in his acquiescence, he'll stop Obi-Wan from issuing another long-winded speech.

Obi-Wan's sternness progresses to the point of mild annoyance, as if he knows his former padawan is only agreeing in an attempt to skirt around a lecture. "That means you have to make something more than pre-packaged food for your children."

"If you want to complain about my cooking, do it yourself."

It's a common argument between them. Neither of them like to cook, and while Obi-Wan is rather good at it, he finds it an annoyance. He'd done it occasionally when Anakin was younger and they didn't want to eat in the Temple's cafeteria, but now it's something they need three times a day, and that's a different issue entirely. They really should have brought C-3PO with them, except that they'd needed someone to oversee the delivery of Padme's body to her family.

Leaning back in his chair as he downs a glass of muja juice, Anakin is suddenly struck by just how surreal this whole situation is in light of what happened five years ago. This is just so... normal.

That is, as normal as anything can be anymore.

Nothing is ever going to make up for the fact that his children don't have a mother. He can't change that, just as he can't change the fact that their father has sunk down into the dark side and found his way—or, as he prefers to say, was_ pulled_—back out again. He can't make it normal that they're being raised by him and Obi-Wan, who Anakin thinks is sometimes as much the twins' father as he is—which he finds now fault with, because he certainly needs the help—while still acting as a cross between father and brother to him simultaneously. It's an odd situation, so _abnormal_, and yet compared to what their lives might have been, it _is_ normal. Breakfast and family, contrasted with the dark side and Sith lords.

How contradictory.

How _confusing_.

"If you're going to begin thinking deep thoughts, Anakin, you might as well meditate."

"I'm _fine_, Master."

He's never liked meditating, but it's even less enjoyable these days. He did it so much after Padme died that he's begun to associate it with feelings that aren't pleasant. If he can get around it, he only meditates when Obi-Wan insists or when he's so consumed by his own negative thoughts that he has nothing else to do.

"Can we meditate again today, Ben?" Luke asks, sliding down off Anakin's lap and slipping into his own chair. The promise of food never fails to get the boy moving.

"Certainly, Luke. In fact, Anakin, why don't you help Leia with it, and I'll help Luke?"

Anakin nods. "All right." It will mean doing it himself, which isn't an overly appealing thought, but the twins do need the help, and he enjoys the time spent with his children.

Obi-Wan swallows down another bite of his breakfast. "We can do that when I get back from town. I shouldn't be too late."

"That's what you always say." He works not to roll his eyes, though he thinks maybe he shouldn't have bothered: Obi-Wan gives him a stern look anyway. "Fine. I'll keep some dinner for you, assuming that I don't incinerate the house with my less-than-fantastic culinary skills."

He knows he's being laughed at when Obi-Wan ducks his head and hides his smile with a hand over his mouth. "That's appreciated."

Ten minutes later, Anakin's left with the dishes and two energetic children who just _have_ to practice sparring with their wooden lightsabers, even though he's very specifically told them before that they can't do it in the house. "Outside!" he orders them, watching them scurry out the door. To make things even more interesting, the heat's still rising, and that niggling feeling he's getting in the Force hasn't gone away.

Sighing heavily, he throws the dishes in the sink to do later and follows his children outside.

This has the makings of an interesting day.


	15. Part 2: Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **George Lucas still owns it all.

**Author's Note:**

I'm going to be doing my best to update this story at more frequent intervals, as I'm heading back to college mid-August, and I'd like to get it all posted before then. We'll see.

xBrainsx: Anakin is doing his best, but he's got a lot of issues to deal with. And Obi-Wan has issues as well: mainly Anakin.

Tovah98: Obi-Wan is certainly going to encounter something interesting on his trip, but it might not be all bad. By the way, I just wanted to let you know that I'm a fan of your story _Angels Undercover_. Is there any chance that it might be continued?

StormieSkywalker: Hehe, spidey senses. I like that way of describing those feelings in the Force.

Kyer: Yes, well, they do have a policy on traps… :)

ObiBettina7: Yoda is a bit more active in the rebellion in this story than in the Original Trilogy. But, as for Dagobah, well, I can't give that away just yet.

Kimsa Ki-Lurria: Thanks for catching that! I'm a little weak sometimes in my descriptions—I'll try to clear that up in the next few chapters.

**Feedback:** Keeps me from turning to the dark side! Haha, just kidding. I'm on whatever side Obi-Wan's on. ;)

--------------------------

Anchorhead is something of a vile place. Really, in Obi-Wan's opinion, the whole planet of Tatooine is, at least to some degree. What else could he expect? It's controlled by the _Hutts_. Slavery is acceptable. Gambling is prevalent. People live and die—sometimes quite literally—by the podraces. Crime is a way of life here.

Sighing, Obi-Wan shoulders his pack and slips into the cantina for a quick drink. Alcohol isn't something he can really afford to indulge in very often, but a small drink won't be much of a detriment. He used to occasionally allow himself that particular luxury on Coruscant, after all, sometimes in the company of other fellow council members.

Only, today he may not be getting his drink.

Obi-Wan has been a Jedi since nearly birth. He's negotiated so many treaties and agreements with slimy politicians that he's nearly lost count. He's been a general in the Clone Wars. He raised_ Anakin_ from the age of nine. After all of that, nothing should be able to surprise him anymore.

Sadly, that is hardly the case.

Still, surprised or not, he hides his shock well—yet another useful thing his experiences have gifted him with. "It's not safe for you to be here," he says quietly, slipping down into the booth opposite the visitor.

The figure in the booth across from him is difficult to see: a dark cloak obscures the person's face into nothing more than a shadow, but he'd never be able to mistake that Force-signature. Never. "Believe me, it's not my first choice, either," the figure mutters, a hint of vitriol to her decidedly feminine voice.

"A lot must have changed."

"You have no idea." Apparently not. He's been out of the loop for a while, having holed up here on Tatooine with Anakin, but as dangerous as making contact is, he would have thought Yoda would have told him about _this_.

"So, are you going to tell me as to what I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

She laughs. "Cut the bantha fodder, Kenobi. We both know that seeing me is hardly a pleasure for you."

"I suppose that depends on what your business is here, Asajj."

Ventress hasn't changed much in the years since Obi-Wan has seen her last. She's still sharp, cold, and every inch a warrior. Her gaze is harshly calculating, as though she's sizing him up—which she probably is—and she still possesses that deadly grace which was always a bit captivating, even if it was also quite likely to prove fatal to her enemies.

Still, there _is_ something... _different_ about her. An easing of sorts. Or maybe it's just that when she drops her hood and finally looks him in the eye, he no longer sees the overwhelming presence of darkness. There isn't_ light_, exactly, but maybe something more like... dawn, a merging of light and darkness.

Her lips curl until a tiny smirk blooms on her face. "I'm only playing messenger today."

"Then I have to conclude that the nature of your visit will rely greatly on just whom you're carrying a message from."

"Which is a clever way of asking me if I'm serving the Empire, I assume?"

Maybe he should have gotten that drink he was thinking about. Maybe he still should. He's beginning to think that he might need it. "I'm sure you understand my need for caution."

"Yes," she agrees, the smirk widening to the point where he just _knows_ she's going to say something he doesn't like. "I'm sure that helping to raise two toddlers who never should have existed—and who could very well cease to exist if the Empire got its hands on them—will make anyone a bit paranoid. Then there's your former apprentice. Tell me, how is Skywalker these days? Are you still raising him, too, or has he finally figured out how to keep himself out of trouble without you there to hold his hand?"

Whatever side she's on, Ventress's experiences clearly haven't dulled her tongue. "Anakin is quite capable of taking care of himself."

"Yes, from what I can see, that's just about the _only _person he takes care of," she mutters, rolling her eyes. "He's lucky that he's still got you to vouch for him, Kenobi, because what's left of the Jedi Order and its allies aren't too inclined to accept the man who destroyed them all in the first place because of his own selfish desires and ambitions."

How can he possibly argue with that? They don't know Anakin, and even if they did, why should they be expected to trust him? For quite a while after he'd turned back to the light, even Obi-Wan hadn't. He'd forgiven him, yes, but it had been years before he'd begun letting him in on the intel that Yoda had given him in the aftermath of Order 66.

How can Obi-Wan expect others to realize that Anakin _has_ come back to the light, but that there are still scars from the dark? How can he make them accept that fact? More importantly, how can others trust Anakin when Obi-Wan is sure that, some days, Anakin doesn't even trust _himself_?

"And are you among those people, Ventress?"

Casually, she leans back in the booth, running a finger over the synthetic leather of the seating. She's playing at being bored, but he's sure she's anything but. "The allies of the Jedi Order? Or the ones who don't trust Skywalker?"

He shrugs. "Either."

"Both."

That's interesting, he thinks, absently stroking his beard. Very interesting, indeed, and maybe not quite believable without a bit of proof. Ventress knows what he wants to hear—knows that he'd like nothing better than to see her redeemed. He'd be a fool to take her words at face value. "You'll have to forgive me if I'm a bit skeptical."

Oddly, she doesn't seem offended at all. "I'd think you were a fool if you weren't. Here." Calmly, she takes something out of the pocket of her cloak. "Yoda gave me this to deliver."

Extending her hand, she gives him a piece of paper with something written on it. He recognizes it immediately, though it's nothing more than a few sets of numbers. Of course, it's an important set—a clearance code for the council, known only to the members. The first set of numbers is Yoda's code; the second his own. The final set is the code that he and Yoda snuck back into the Temple to change—the signal for all Jedi to return to the Temple. Lastly, there are a few more numbers that he doesn't recognized scrawled on the bottom of the paper.

"Did he give you a message?"

Her fingers still on the back of the booth, and she pauses, regarding him evenly. "He said the code would tell you the first part."

"Yes, I understand the first part. But is there anything else?"

"He says not the Temple."

That makes sense. The last few numbers must be coordinates, then. "Did he say when?"

For some reason, that elicits a laugh. The sound isn't a happy one, and he suddenly finds himself wondering if she has ever in her life laughed for joy. He remembers wondering that same thing back when she was torturing him on Rattatak, finding glee in every stroke and cut.

And now he's sitting calmly in a booth across from her. Anakin is just going to _love_ this.

"It's _Yoda_, Kenobi. The venerable master of the Jedi Order calls, and you answer. That little green troll doesn't like to be kept waiting."

"For someone who claims to be on the side of the light, you're certainly completely irreverent of one of the greatest users of the light side of the Force who has ever lived."

"When did I ever say I was on the side of the light? I simply said I was an ally of the Jedi Order." Pausing, she sighs and catches his eye. He's a little surprised—though, he probably shouldn't be—by the passion that he sees there. "Let me put it simply for you: I value loyalty. Dooku answered my loyalty with betrayal. What incentive do I have to remain on the side he was fighting for? Why would I fight for a cause that betrays me?"

"What reason do you have to fight for _us_?"

"What reason do I have to do otherwise? You think even someone like myself can't see why the Empire is deplorable? It's being run by the very people who betrayed me. I was as expendable to Dooku's master as I was to Dooku. There is no honor among them."

And, strangely, Obi-Wan _does_ know that Ventress values honor. It's a completely different sort of honor than that which he follows, but it is _something_. She is loyal to a fault. She would have died for Dooku, and to be abandoned by him was the worst sort of betrayal.

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend?"

"Something like that."

"I doubt that Yoda would ally himself with a dark side user."

She raises an eyebrow. "When did I say that I still used the dark side of the Force?"

Yes, he really should have bought that drink. "You're not light, you're not dark—what _do_ you follow, then?"

"If I had to define it, I would tell you that I draw on the light. However, I do not neglect my anger—it can be useful. The closest explanation I can give you is to liken it to Vaapad. You channel your anger, but it does not rule you."

"But you use your anger?"

"Yes."

"That's dangerous."

She only shrugs and gives him a small smile, which this time is oddly absent of venom. She seems almost amused. "To you, perhaps. But anger is only an emotion. The Jedi give it too much power. If controlled, it can be useful, much like, as I'm sure you know, love. Emotions are not what make us fall to the path of evil, Kenobi—it is our own inability to master them which does that."

He dislikes how rational she sounds. She's almost making him want to consider what she's saying. Maybe later, he will—the Jedi have been wrong before. After all, he's the one who decided that it wasn't love he needed to deny himself, but attachment that he couldn't release. That isn't part of the Jedi Code. Who is he to say that she's wrong? Then again, who's to say that she's right? All he can say is that he's simply come to the point where he's willing to consider other possibilities.

"Now is not the time to discuss this. Where did you meet Yoda?"

"Rebel headquarters."

"Which is _where_?"

The infuriating smirk plays over her lips again, and her eyes brighten with something resembling humor. "How do I know I can trust you, Kenobi?"

He's not willing to play this game. Not right now. He dismisses the question with a wave of his hand. "I'm sure I'll find out soon enough. Now, thank you for delivering your message."

When he makes the move to stand up, he's mildly surprised to find that she rises to stand with him. "You misunderstand my orders. I'm to _bring_ you to Yoda. You're just the navigator. I'm never to know the coordinates of where we go. The rebel base where Yoda is now is entirely different than the one where _I _met with him."

"Yoda still considers you a security liability, and yet he sent you to find me?" That's just wonderful. What is Yoda thinking? If he doesn't trust her, then he's compromised their position on Tatooine.

"Worried someone might find you here?" she asks, smoothing out a slight wrinkle in her cloak. "Don't be. I don't think Yoda intends to send you back. As far as I can tell, your anonymous hiding is over."

"I have_ children_ to think about—"

She waves him off, falling into step beside him as they move to the door. "_Skywalker_ has children to think about."

The callousness of that statement irritates him, and he pauses, pulling up short so quickly that Ventress goes a few steps beyond him. "Here me when I say this, Ventress: if you bring any harm whatsoever to those children, I will personally see that you are held responsible. They may not be my biological children, but they _are_ Anakin's, and Anakin was as much my child as anyone of blood ever could be."

"Was?" she asks. This time, she doesn't look as though she's mocking him—she seems genuinely curious.

"Anakin is not a child anymore. But brother, son, friend--it doesn't matter. It's all the same in terms of loyalty. And it is none of your business."

With the way she falls silent, he could almost swear that she's a little chastened. He wouldn't have thought it possible.

"You have my word that I won't harm them," she says after a few moments.

He nods. "Good." There's no concrete reason for him to believe her, but somehow he does. He can't explain it. Still, over the years he's learned to trust his instincts. Sometimes, that and the Force are all he'll have to go on.

For now, it will have to be enough.

"Follow me," he says quietly, heading out of the bar and into the dying heat of a Tatooine twilight.

--------------------------

Obi-Wan is late.

Most days, that would not be a cause for concern. Obi-Wan is a fully trained Jedi, completely capable of taking care of himself. True, he's almost always on time, but he has been known to stop for a quick drink in town. Sometimes, Anakin suspects that he enjoys playing "Crazy Old Ben," the hermit who lives with his brother and his brother's two children out by the Dune Sea.

Anakin has always found it amusing that Obi-Wan chose the twins' nickname for him as his alias. The name had been born of a warping of his actual name. As it turns out, "Obi-Wan" is difficult to say for a toddler; for Luke and Leia, "Bwan" was much simpler. From there, "Ben" followed.

Thus, Ben Kenobi.

Obi-Wan always has been rather creative. Anakin just hopes that he's creative enough to stay out of trouble today. The disturbance in the Force has him enough on edge that he's a bit worried.

Maybe he shouldn't be. The sound of a speeder drifts in through the open window, letting him know that he's got company. Though, really, not company. Obi-Wan lives here, too.

Or, perhaps, he _does_ have company.

Glancing out the window to watch Obi-Wan step off the speeder, he watches as another figure slips off behind him, sliding lithely to the ground. Whoever it is, they're a bit shorter than Obi-Wan, and they're features are hidden by a dark cloak that looks surprisingly like a version of one used by a Jedi.

Who can Obi-Wan have possibly brought home?

"Luke, Leia, go finish working on that droid you built today. I'm sure Ben will want to see it." He's tempted to put a hint of Force-suggestion behind his words, but he refrains, knowing how annoyed it will make Obi-Wan (_You can't teach a child by making them mindlessly obey, Anakin. Think of what the results would have been if I did that to _you_ when you were my padawan!_). Honestly, though he'd never admit it, he _does_ agree. Thankfully, the children obey him anyway, likely not having noticed the speeder pulling up, as they were too enthralled with the imaginary sword fight that they were having.

Sometimes, he thinks he should cut back on how often he allows them to watch him and Obi-Wan spar.

When Obi-Wan opens the door, Anakin greets him with a casual, "You're late."

Obi-Wan grins, sweeping his hood back to lie against his shoulders before removing the cloak altogether. "For what? Did we have something planned?" Behind him, the guest slips into the room. Whoever he or she is, the person keeps a hood drawn over the facial area, preventing identification.

"Luke is a bit disappointed that you weren't around to help him with meditations, but no harm done. There are leftovers from dinner if you want them."

Obi-Wan's grin widens. "With the way you cook? Not likely, but I appreciate the offer."

Their exchange is quick, both of them knowing that their attention is really more focused on the anonymous presences standing in the doorway. Anakin trusts Obi-Wan not to bring home anyone who might endanger Luke and Leia, but these are still perilous times, and strangers are always a cause for unease.

"Well, are you going to introduce me to your friend?" he asks after a few moments, leaning forward a little in his chair, curiosity getting the better of him.

As it turns out, Obi-Wan doesn't need to: the unknown person allows her hood to fall back, and suddenly Anakin has all the introduction he needs.

"Are you out of your mind?" he snaps, instantly on guard, and more importantly, immediatly _angry_. What is Obi-Wan thinking? _Is_ he thinking?

Obi-Wan doesn't move under his unflinching stare. "Yoda sent her."

"And you thought it was a good idea to bring her back _here_?"

A good idea? No, probably not. Anakin is sure that Obi-Wan at least knows _that_. He'll have a reason, certainly, and it had better be a good one. He doesn't want Ventress around his children—he can't really believe that Obi-Wan would either.

No, there must be a _very_ good reason.

Ventress looks completely unaffected by his words. If anything, she seems mildly pleased. She probably is. After all, it's _Ventress_, and _what_ is Obi-Wan thinking?

"I already knew where you were anyway, Skywalker. Yoda gave me your coordinates. In fact, I dropped by earlier this morning, but saw that Kenobi was apparently taking a jaunt into town, and thought it might be easier to meet there."

Well, that explains the feeling of unease.

"What is Yoda thinking?" he demands, digging his fingers into his thighs as he faces Obi-Wan. "_What _can he _possibly_ be thinking?" That appears to be the running theme. Has everyone he knows gone mad?

Obi-Wan calmly folds his arms over his chest and levels his gaze. Even in situations like these, he finds a way to be serene and calm—to be everything Anakin doesn't know how to be. That's fine—he's seen Obi-Wan lose his control, and he _never_ wants to see it again. He never wants to be the _cause_ of it again.

Even so, that calm is somewhat infuriating in the face of his own inclination toward emotion.

"You want my honest opinion?"

Oddly, even Ventress looks interested in that. Could it be possible that she doesn't quite know why she was sent, either? "I'm listening," he replies, fighting to keep his voice casual.

"Yoda's testing you. He did the same thing to Qui-Gon's former padawan Xanatos by sending him to face his father."

"So he's _trying_ to turn me to the dark side?"

A sharp, bitter laugh from the doorway startles him into looking away from Obi-Wan. "It doesn't seem like you needed much help with that, Skywalker," Ventress quips, crossing her slender arms and staring at him through maddeningly bright eyes, full of ill-humor.

Force help him, if this is what he's going to have to deal with, Yoda is probably going to succeed in his twisted little test. "Neither did you."

"Oh, don't be modest. Your resume_ far_ outstrips my own. In fact, you probably did even more damage than _Dooku_—"

That's not fair. It isn't. Dooku orchestrated an entire _war_. What he did to the Temple, it was terrible, yes, but surely not as bad as what Dooku did, right?

Right. He'll believe that. He hates that he's able to consider otherwise.

More than that, he hates Ventress for bringing it up.

A wave of anger prompted by that hate washes over Anakin, thrumming through his veins with a power that makes him feel _good_. It's _so_ good, like a perfect high of power that leaves his head buzzing. Force, what is he that he can still feel it? His ability scares him, because it was never the _power_ of the dark side that he didn't like—it was only the repercussions. The power had been the most pleasurable high he could achieve.

The fallout had been worse than any crash.

Taking a deep breath, he makes himself release his anger to the Force.

Exhaling slowly, he turns to respond to Ventress, unsure of what he'll even say. It doesn't matter. He never actually has to think of anything. Obi-Wan beats him to it, stepping forward between Anakin and Ventress as if he meant to from the beginning. He probably did. That would be very like Obi-Wan, always planning ahead.

Obi-Wan has always had a natural grace about him. A confident grace. It makes people stop and look—take notice. He is the sort of man who makes others want to put confidence in him, because he possesses a strength—an_ inner_ strength—that very few people have.

That same strength, Anakin has found, can almost be intimidating, should Obi-Wan need it to be. Among his many other talents, when it comes right down to it, Obi-Wan is not someone that other people want to cross. Five years and a little more graying at his temples hasn't changed that. He is still the renowned warrior and general—the formidable opponent—that he was during the Clone Wars.

Now, as he steps forward between Ventress and Anakin, Anakin can see that power sparking, just barely visible, but deadly in its intensity. Clearly, though the emotion is controlled, Obi-Wan is angry. "As I've stated, Ventress, I'm fairly clear on what Master Yoda's intentions are. But understand this: even if I respect him, I do not necessarily agree with everything he decides, and I will not allow you to be deliberately provoking simply because you _can_ be. If that is your intention, Anakin and I will book separate passage to our destination, and you can find your way on your own."

She scowls. "You know damn well, Kenobi, that I don't know what our destination _is_."

A smirk plays at his lips. "A pity, that."

Anakin can practically feel the waves of annoyance radiating off Ventress. Obi-Wan's presence in the Force, however, is settling, slipping back into the normal placid calm that usually characterizes his Force signature. Amusingly, at least to Anakin, he is making Ventress look silly and like little more than a child.

It's nice when Obi-Wan does that to someone other than _him_.

"Am I understood?" he asks, his tone sliding back into something almost pleasant.

"Someday, Kenobi, Skywalker's not going to have _you_ to stick up for him. And he's already proven what happens when you're not right there to make his decisions for him."

Though Anakin bristles at the out-right insult, Obi-Wan only shrugs, giving her a small smile. "Palpatine, as I'm sure Anakin will attest," he begins, shooting Anakin a quick look which doubles as a command for silence, "was rather persuasive. And, as I'm sure _you_ know, it's shockingly easy to be mislead. Dooku was good at misleading people, wasn't he?"

Ventress's scowl transforms into nothing short of a glower.

"That's what I thought," he murmurs, smiling. "Now, if you're done laying blame, I do believe that Anakin and I have some packing to do."


	16. Part 2: Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I've got nothing.

**Author's Note:**

pronker: Please, keep picking up on those details! I sometimes forget things like that, and since I don't have a beta, I've got no one else to catch them. I hope I answered your question in this chapter.

MegumiFuu: Ventress is in some of the comics, some of the Expanded Universe books, and in the _Star Wars: The Clone Wars_ series. The last one is a show on Cartoon Network, and since she's an occasional character in that, she's been getting a lot more attention. Haha, and, yes, I'll join whatever side smirky Obi-Wan is one!

darksidesparkles: I'm enjoying writing Ventress as basically light while still retaining her personality. That's a bit challenging.

mokakenobi: Yes, Ventress and Anakin will have some trouble co-existing.

ObiBettina7: That was something that always irritated me about Yoda—I know he's wise and all that, but that doesn't give him the right to direct other people's lives. He's also, in my opinion, a bit cold, aka, he'll emotionlessly send someone to kill the person who is like their son/brother/best friend. I enjoyed the bit about Obi-Wan, too. In just about every characterization I've seen of him (especially the one done by Ewan McGregor), when he wants to be, he can really command attention and obedience. I always think of that bit when he's getting off the ship on Mustafar and he told Anakin to let Padme go.

Kimsa Ki-Lurria: Hang on for a bit longer, and then I promise, the lightsabers will come out!

**Feedback:** Is as fun for me as seeing Obi-Wan verbally take down Ventress is for Anakin.

---------------------------

The ship that Ventress has procured is about the same size as Anakin's old G9 Rigger Freighter, the _Twilight_, used to be. It's structure, while not luxurious, is sufficient: it has a cockpit, a undersized hangar, a storage area, and a back room with two bunks. As far as Obi-Wan can tell, that means that it's small enough to make the trip to wherever they're going rather... unpleasant.

"Daddy, where are we going?" he hears Leia ask as Anakin buckles her into one of the seats against the back wall of the cockpit.

"You'll see when we get there." Over his shoulder, he adds, "Obi-Wan, could you get Luke buckled in, please?"

He nods and then reaches over to scoop up Luke. "I believe that's you, young Luke," he jokes, swinging the child up into his arms. Luke giggles at the sudden movement and reaches out to grab hold of Obi-Wan's tunic for balance. "Do _you_ know where we're going, Ben?"

"I'd hate to ruin the surprise for you."

Obi-Wan has to admit, he enjoys the brightness that he sees in Luke's clear blue eyes. There's so much good there, and as he secures the child into the seat, he finds that he's very thankful for that. "Be good, understand?" he says, smiling as he kneels down in front of Luke. "Your Daddy and I are going to need to concentrate, and so you and your sister will have to be quiet."

Luke rolls his eyes, but a good-natured toothy grin offsets the action. "'M _always_ good, Ben."

"That's nice to know. I'd hate to have to say that I helped raise a brat."

Laughing, Luke takes a playful swing at him. "Bennn!" His protests only prompt Obi-Wan to ruffle his hair.

"Remember what I said, Luke."

Ventress is sitting in the co-pilot's seat, watching everything with a seemingly impassive stare. S_eemingly, _as Obi-Wan knows, is the operative word—underneath her emotionless facade, something else is peaking through, just barely contained. Something close to... _want_, perhaps? Interesting. He wouldn't have thought it possible, but, if he had to guess—and he's rather good at guessing—it nearly seems as though Ventress envies them what they have.

Though, really, what_ do_ they have? A family? He, Anakin, and the children make just about the oddest family he's ever seen, but it's undeniable that they have something along those lines… something Ventress has never really had.

"If you're done," she says, a hint of impatience in her voice, "then now would be a good time to take off."

Anakin shoots her a nasty glare, leaving Obi-Wan just short of delivering a reprimand that dies on his lips, as he knows it won't do a thing. Anakin is twenty-seven, and by now he ought to know better than to be rankled by something as empty as words_._ He _should_ know better, but he never seems to, and just from watching, Obi-Wan feels the keen desire to ease his fingers over his temples in the hope of averting the headache that he can feel developing. Sometimes, Anakin gives him fits.

Anakin is twenty-seven, and still headstrong, independent, and entirely needy all at the same time. Thank the Force he's at least mellowed from his teenage years—and he has. Now, while he still needs to feel connected to people as much as he ever did, he's no longer as prone to fly off in a fit of temper if he doesn't get what he wants. There's a certain maturity about him, which overshadows the less desirable bits of his personality. He is, for all of Obi-Wan's occasional irritation with him, no longer an immature padawan, nor the impressionable man who became Darth Vader. Characteristics of those people may remain, but they are no longer _Anakin._

He's changed physically, as well—has grown up. From boyish features to the maturing good looks of a teen, Anakin has now sharpened out into a decidedly attractive young man. More noticeably to Obi-Wan, he's also developed a presence that he never quite possessed before. This Anakin commands attention in a way that goes far beyond the showy antics he used to employ in order to garner the notice of others.

Unfortunately, for all of that, he still hasn't learned to ignore insults, and least of all insults from _Ventress._

These two aren't going to make the ride very pleasant. Obi-Wan can already tell.

"Learn a little patience, Ventress," Anakin snaps, sliding into the pilot's seat. He and Ventress have already had a rather heated talk about who was going to pilot the ship, but in the end, Obi-Wan's input won out. There isn't a better pilot in the galaxy than Anakin, and everyone in this ship knows it.

Liftoff is fairly uneventful. They break the atmosphere with little trouble, the only incident occurring when Leia starts whimpering in fear. Luke, for his part, seems entirely fascinated. That part of him is all Anakin, apparently.

Once they're out of the atmosphere, Obi-Wan gets out of his seat and unbuckles Leia, picking her up. "It's all right," he assures her quietly. "I've done this a thousand times, and while I may not be particularly fond of flying, either, it's quite safe." That is, if they're not in the middle of space battle, following_ Anakin_. When following Anakin, _nothing_ about flying is safe...

"Don't like it," she sniffles, burying her head against Obi-Wan's shoulder.

"Master, I need the coordinates to wherever we're going." Looking back over his shoulder, Anakin settles worried eyes on his daughter. "Is she all right?" he asks quietly, one hand firmly gripping his seat. Obi-Wan can see how white-knuckled the hold is.

"She'll be all right," he promises as he fishes Yoda's note out of his pocket. "Here. The last set of numbers are your coordinates."

Anakin takes the paper, pausing for a moment to gently brush back his daughter's hair with his real hand as Obi-Wan comes to stand beside him. Leia reacts to the touch and turns toward her father, reaching out with her small arms in a clear demand to be held.

Like Anakin was, Leia is very demanding. She likes to get what she wants.

And Anakin, amusingly enough, seems to have a very hard time saying no to her.

"It's all right, baby," he murmurs as he takes her from Obi-Wan and settles her in his lap before beginning to punch in the coordinates. "What are the rest of these numbers, Master?"

Ventress rolls her eyes. "Has anyone told you he's not your master anymore, Skywalker?"

Anakin doesn't even bother to look up from Yoda's note—his concentration remains on the controls, and indirectly on Leia, who is bracketed safely between his arms. "Has anyone told you that you'd be better off mute?"

Ventress mutters something under her breath that Obi-Wan doesn't quite catch but that he's sure is not complimentary.

Getting involved in this is really just about tantamount to risking life and limb, and he has no desire to do that in this moment. He'll just answer Anakin's question instead: "Proof from Yoda that the note is from him."

"Well, in that case, I'd say the sooner we find him the better." He's lying, of course—Anakin, Obi-Wan is sure, isn't looking forward to seeing Yoda. Though, really, he can hardly blame him.

Obi-Wan isn't particularly looking forward to it, either. How can he be, when he knows just how much Yoda still distrusts Anakin? _Everyone_ is going to distrust Anakin, and he can't very much blame them for it, either.

Taking a seat again, Obi-Wan leans back as Anakin prepares to make the jump to hyperspace. He can only hope that Yoda will be wise enough to recognize that Anakin truly has come back to the light. Recognition from Yoda will be enough.

Won't it?

-------------------------------

Dagobah. That's where Yoda is. On Dagobah. Here Anakin had thought that a residence on Tatooine, living off the occasional odd jobs that he and Obi-Wan did in town was unappealing. But _Dagobah_? It's a nasty, misty swampy planet, where no one in their right mind would_ ever_ want to live. But, then again, this is _Yoda_. Anakin was never really convinced he was in his right mind to begin with.

"Are you sure those coordinates were right, Obi-Wan?" Anakin mutters as he climbs into his bunk. It's a really small bunk, too. All in all, this isn't looking to be a pleasant night, considering that he's sharing the bunk with Luke, who is a rather violent sleeper.

Obi-Wan hadn't been overly sympathetic to his plight. _You were a restless sleeper, too, Anakin _was all he'd said, though he did offer an entirely too-pleased smirk. His former master just never seems to get tired of watching him deal with the less enjoyable parts of raising children. Something about payback, Obi-Wan had said.

Maybe he's right. There was that one time on a mission to Berrun when he and Obi-Wan had to share a bed. He can remember that, in his sleep, he accidentally pushed his master out onto the floor.

"I'm certain," Obi-Wan replies, settling himself and Leia down in the other bunk. Thankfully, Ventress volunteered to sleep in the cockpit. If she hadn't, Anakin is fairly certain he would have kicked her out anyway.

"Dagobah. You have to be kidding me."

"I assure you, if I were joking, I would have endeavored to at least make it _funny_."

"Yoda's trying to kill us. I'm sure of it."

"Anakin, he's not—"

"Who's Yoda?" Leia asks, interrupting what Anakin is sure would have turned into a lecture. Good girl. She's already learned the importance of cutting Obi-Wan off before he can really gain any momentum. She's definitely his child, he thinks with a sudden burst of pride.

"The most annoying creature to ever—"

"He is a Jedi Master who is worthy of our respect," Obi-Wan offers instead, sending Anakin a pointed look and leaving him wondering exactly who the comment was really intended for. "He is nearly nine hundred years old, and full of wisdom."

"Yeah, that's one word for it." Scowling, he loops an arm over his son and tries to get more comfortable. If the bunk wasn't so annoyingly _small_, that would probably be easier.

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes and tucks his blanket a little tighter around Leia. How did Obi-Wan manage to get to share a bunk with the twin who is capable of not thrashing while asleep? "Anakin, I sincerely hope you gain a new attitude before we reach Dagobah. If you want to prove to Yoda that you've changed, this is_ not_ the way to do it."

"Are you saying I haven't changed?" he snaps. The comment is irrational and childish, but he's tired and frustrated, and he suddenly just needs confirmation that Obi-Wan still believes in him, since apparently no one else does. Maybe Ventress's comments hit a little deeper than he'd thought.

Thankfully, Obi-Wan seems to understand that; his gaze softens, and he sighs heavily. "You know that isn't what I meant. But they don't know you like I do. And they won't give you the benefit of the doubt."

"Maybe neither should you."

"I don't believe that."

"I know. If you did, you'd have killed me. You had the opportunity on many occasions."

Luke shifts sleepily in front of him. "What'd you do to Ben, Daddy?"

When Anakin glances over at Obi-Wan for help, his former master gives him a tiny shake of his head. _Not tonight_ the look seems to say. Good. Anakin is thankful--he doesn't want to explain his short-comings to the twins quite yet, though he's beginning to think he'll have to soon. After all, when everyone makes no secret of how much they hate him, it will get harder to ignore. Plus, the twins_ have_ already asked about how Obi-Wan got that large scar down his back.

The problem is, Anakin is not sure how he'll ever explain it. He doesn't want to scare his children, because if he was capable of doing that to Obi-Wan—someone the children know he cares for—he's sure they'll think he is capable of doing it to them.

Maybe, deep down, that's what he's really afraid of.

He hurt Obi-Wan. He put a lightsaber in his back, he choked him, he forced him to see things that no person ever should have to, and he cut him off from the Force. He hurt Padme, too. Originally, he might have thought that what he was doing was out of love for her, but love would never have prompted him to hit her or choke her, or to drive her to the point of hopelessness that he knows she reached at the end. He was horrible to the two people whom he loved the most, and if he could do that to them, could he do it to the twins also?

And how will he ever explain about their mother?

Thoughts of what he did to Padme hurt even more than those of what he did to Obi-Wan, simply because Obi-Wan has at least forgiven him. Padme never had that opportunity, and even if she had, he's not sure she'd have extended her pardon. Force, but he had loved that woman. He still aches with the loss of her. Some days, he wakes up thinking she's beside him in bed, and when he turns over to find that she's not, it's as debilitating as when he first found she was gone. Dreams are cruel like that—they promise what they can't deliver, and, when they end, the illusion is shattered, and everything is ripped away. Holding onto them is like trying to catch the wind.

"Go to sleep, Luke," he says after a moment, running his hand through the silky strands of his son's hair. These children are all that's left of Padme now, and they are everything that was good about both him and his wife—about them _together_. He will not make the same mistakes with them that he made with his Padme. He will _not _hurt them.

Luke mumbles something that sounds annoyed, but he does snuggle down into the bunk as Obi-Wan dims the lights. No one speaks after that, and there's something to be thankful for in that. Anakin doesn't want to talk about what he's thinking. Right now, all he wants to concentrate on is the future.

Tomorrow, they'll reach Dagobah.

After that, he doesn't know.

Maybe he doesn't want to think so much about the future after all.

---------------------------

One look at Dagobah, and Obi-Wan instantly knows it's not where he'd want to vacation. It's swampy, wet, terrible smelling, and devoid of any indigenous life form worthy of particular note. Of course, it _is_ a fantastic place to put a rebel base. It makes perfect sense—who in their right mind would _want _to look here?

The rebel base isn't very large, leading Obi-Wan to suspect that it isn't the main one. It's also well hidden from anyone who might be looking, having been built inside a large system of caves. He has to hand it to Yoda—he's really set this up well. He doubts that anyone other than the Jedi Grandmaster himself knows where all the bases are located; Yoda's smart enough to keep it all separate.

Yoda hasn't changed much in the three years since Obi-Wan has seen him last. He's still small, green, and has a few wispy tufts of white hair springing from his head. He's even kept that gimmer stick of his. Of course, his skills are probably still such that he could defeat just about any Jedi in a duel, which more than makes up for his less-than-harrowing appearance.

"Master Obi-Wan," Yoda greets with a small inclination of his head. "Good to see you again, it is." Then, slowly, he looks behind Obi-Wan, his gaze sweeping over Anakin appraisingly, taking in both him and the twins who are tagging along at his side. Nearly immediately, his eyes narrow, and a frown clouds his face. "Young Skywalker it is, I presume?"

Through the Force, Obi-Wan can feel Anakin's shields tighten; Obi-Wan's stomach sinks accordingly. Why would Anakin do that? If anything, he should open himself up—allow Yoda to see that he's not hiding any darkness.

Unless, of course, Anakin is afraid of exactly that: Yoda finding darkness that Anakin himself might not even know exists.

"Yes, Master," Anakin says quietly, his grip tightening on each of the twins' hands. "It's Skywalker."

"Hmmm." He casts Anakin one last appraising look. "And your word on this, we should take? No. No. Proof of this, we require. Too careful, we cannot be."

Obi-Wan frankly isn't surprised. Yoda has probably been contemplating Anakin's arrival for a long time now. It's almost expected that he'd have something set up.

Anakin swallows. "I understand. Obi-Wan, can you take the children?"

"Certainly." He gives a small wave, beckoning for the children to come to him. They both are sporting looks of slight confusion, and he knows that they're picking up some of the tension in the Force. How can they not, when they're both Force-sensitive? The Force is practically _humming_ with feeling and intensity.

"What do you want me to do, Master?" Anakin asks with a calm he probably doesn't feel.

"A mind search, we will do."

"I—what?"

Anakin's hesitancy is completely clear in the Force, bleeding through his shields with enough potency for any Force-sensitive being to catch a hint of it. Obi-Wan can't blame him—mind searches are painful and intrusive, and for someone like Anakin, who is just as afraid of what's in his own mind as anyone else is, it's likely a frightening prospect.

"Something to hide, have you, young Skywalker?"

"No, nothing, Master. I just—"

Obi-Wan is suddenly very glad that Ventress left them as soon as they landed. He can only imagine what she'd have to say about this. As it is, he wishes the twins weren't hearing what's being said.

Part of him—the part that is eternally Anakin's master—wishes Yoda would just be content that Anakin didn't kill Ventress. That was a feat in and of itself. In fact, there were quite a few moments when Obi-Wan would have liked to. Withstanding that woman's taunts _has_ to be proof that one is not controlled by the dark side.

"Then cause for worry, you should not have," Yoda declares decisively, thumping his gimmer stick down on the ground for emphasis.

Anakin takes a deep breath. "It's not that simple." He glances over towards his former master, and Obi-Wan just _knows_ he's about to say something that will probably only complicate things further. The twins can apparently sense the tension as well; they press in a little closer, leaning into his legs and gripping his pants with remarkably strong grips for such little beings. "Let Obi-Wan do it with you."

Yes, that certainly _will_ make things more interesting.

All in all, it's not a terrible idea. He's someone Anakin knows and trusts, and given how invasive a mind-search can be, it would likely be comforting to have a familiar presence. It's safer, anyway; in a normal mind search, someone would monitor the person's mind for overwhelming stress, while the other—or others—go through the mind in an attempt to find what they're looking for.

"He's a Jedi Master, as well, and qualified to do it."

Yoda gives an annoyed "harrumph", but he does shift his gaze over to Obi-Wan. "Master Kenobi?"

"I believe it would be a good idea, Master Yoda. Someone should monitor for undue strain."

Yoda seems to consider that; his ears twitch as he appears to be thinking hard, and a level of acceptance settles over his face, softening the wrinkles of his wizened green skin. "Very well. Do it, we will. Now, if ready you are, Master Kenobi."

"I—yes. But someone needs to watch the children. Is there anyone—?"

"Breha Organa. In the next room, she is. Intended to speak to you, she did, but time to do that later, there will be."

A good choice. He trusts Breha, and from the tiny nod that Anakin gives him, he knows that his former padawan does as well. "All right. I'll go meet with her quickly and then come back."


	17. Part 2: Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **Still nothing.

**Author's Note:**

pronker: I'm glad the kids come off well. I work part-time in a daycare to pay for college, so I do have some experience with children to draw from, but trying to characterize them in a story is completely new for me.

Dawn of Time: Thank you so much for taking the time to read! Your review is very much appreciated!

phantom-jedi1: I'm rather enjoying writing Obi-Wan with the children. In the movies, I always kind of wished he raised Luke himself. Obi-Wan and small children/babies is just the ultimate cuteness.

Kereea: Yes, I agree—Yoda needs to realize that he's not always right.

ObiBettina7: Ah, yes, good find! Thanks—I'll change that.

Kimsa Ki-Lurria: I always thought Leia was far more like her father than Luke was, at least in the original trilogy. Her flat out bluntness just always made me think of Anakin. Really, her whole attitude kind of reminded me of him.

Jedi Angel001: They probably did need longer, but sadly the Empire needs a takedown.

**Feedback:** Makes me really happy!

----------------------------

Anakin feels cold all over. Part of it is probably the climate—this certainly isn't Tatooine—but the main reason has more to do with his imminent future. A _mind search_? The thought alone is enough to make him feel ill. Even _he_ doesn't know what's in the deeper recesses of his own mind, and what if Yoda finds something he doesn't like? Will he want to have Anakin killed? Imprisoned?

Maybe they never should have come back.

"Lie back, you will, young Skywalker," Yoda commands, gesturing with a pointed claw towards a raised medical table.

Swallowing back the lump of fear in his throat, Anakin does as he's told and stretches out on his back. The icy cold of the metal seeps into his back, and he shivers, feeling the hairs of his arms rise. "Master Yoda, I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am—"

"For that, now the time is not," Yoda replies, cutting him off with short, clipped words. "Apologies given for something that may not yet be over, useless they are."

Anakin can't hide his flinch. That's nothing short of a figurative slap in the face. Yoda really, truly isn't convinced he's back on the side of the light. Anakin would like to resent him for that—and he does—but in some ways he can't blame him. He wouldn't trust himself, either.

Thankfully, Obi-Wan takes that moment to walk back into the room. He's wearing a weary, frustrated look that almost makes him appear his age—Anakin is willing to bet that the twins didn't take well to being left alone with a stranger. That's not surprising, since they've never had anyone other than himself or Obi-Wan watch them before, but he wishes that Obi-Wan hadn't had to go through the worst of it. The twins' emotional ups and downs affect him far more than he lets on.

"Master Kenobi? Ready, you are?"

He nods and comes to stand at the head of the table as Yoda hops up beside Anakin's head. "Yes, Master Yoda."

"Young Skywalker?"

Anakin shuts his eyes and tries to release his anxiety to the Force. He's not ready for this. He's _not_, but he'll have to be. "Yes, Master."

A moment later, he feels Obi-Wan's hands settle lightly on his temples, followed by Yoda's clawed hand on his forehead. "Then begin, we will."

When they do start, Anakin realizes that nothing could have prepared him for this.

The sensation is slow at first, a gentle probing at the shields that he realizes he hasn't taken down. "Let them drop, Anakin," Obi-Wan requests gently. Thank the Force that Obi-Wan is the one who asked; if it had been Yoda with his short, suspicious tone, Anakin isn't sure he could have been able to make himself comply.

With the shields down, he feels them press in further.

They hit his recent emotions first. Fear, worry, anxiety—he can feel Obi-Wan and Yoda wading through them. It's not painful yet—they're not that deep into his mind. All he's getting is a light pressure, not yet approaching discomfort.

That, he knows, is still to come.

The deeper they go, the harder their individual presences are to sense. A part of Obi-Wan remains clear, watching him for signs of trauma, but the other part of his former master becomes as distant as all of Yoda, slipping into his thoughts and emotions.

He doesn't like it. He's always preferred the tangible, and this is anything but.

They hit memories next, starting with the most recent. His irritation and anger at Asajj Ventress, living in the deserts of Tatooine, Luke and Leia, Obi-Wan—it all begins to blend together, and the pressure grows as they slip deeper, further back, until—

He screams.

It rips and burns, and he can't stop it at all, at _all_—they've hit the memories that he's locked down inside of himself, memories of the time after Order 66. No, no, no—he doesn't want them to see his thoughts during that time. He doesn't want Obi-Wan to know just what he was thinking when he hurt him. Obi-Wan will _hate_ him, and Yoda will probably want to kill him, and it hurts, it hurts, it _hurts_--

_Obi-Wan! Master!_

Pressure floods him, pressing against his skull until he's sure it's going to burst. He needs help, and reaches desperately for the part of Obi-Wan's essence that is still clear to him, grasping it and holding on, using it as an anchor. He'll get through this.

The pressure pulls back, and then surges forward, forcefully probing even deeper until he can't breathe. It's getting harder to tell exactly _what_ is being touched, but even in the haze of his mind he can feel Yoda pause over a broken bond that's raw and still weeping. Padme. Then, moving on, Yoda finds his existing bonds. His fear of losing those connections, and, yes, he's still got that, Yoda can _deal_ with it, can shove it up whatever orifice is most convenient, because he's not giving any of them up—

Everything he never wanted anyone to see is being laid bare, and it's all pain. He can't handle this. He's not sure why he ever thought he could. _Please, Obi-Wan, pull me out._ Why won't he? Did he even say that out loud? Can his master hear him? _Master, please, help me—_

Nothing. He can hardly even sense Obi-Wan anymore. Nothing, really. Just pain. So much pain.

Then, nothing at all.

------------------------

Obi-Wan is left gasping for breath when he pulls out of Anakin's mind.

"Oh, Force—" he chokes out, staggering back to lean against the wall as he tries to catch his breath.

He had known that Anakin had been afraid of himself—of what he might _do_—but he had no idea just how deeply it ran. In all of Anakin's thoughts, it had been like a vein, stretching through everything, tainting all of it.

Anakin is terrified he's going to fall again, and that he's going to take down everyone he loves when he does.

"Fear is the path to the dark side."

As if he needs Yoda to tell him this. He's lived that once before. He's seen it in Anakin.

"With all due respect, Master Yoda, quite a lot can be a path to the dark side. It's about how we control our emotions."

"Your vision your attachment clouds, Obi-Wan."

Always attachment, and suddenly he's very thankful that Anakin is still unconscious on the table. He likely will be for a few more minutes. That's good, because Obi-Wan would never want him to hear this. Anakin would take what he's about to say too far, and use it as permission to disregard even more of the Jedi Code. "Perhaps it does, but I still believe that I am right. Nothing that I saw here makes me believe that Anakin is any more likely to turn to the dark side than I am."

Yoda's ears twitch slight, and he frowns at Obi-Wan. If he was holding his stick, Obi-Wan is willing to bet that he'd have hit it against something by now. "Your attachment—"

"—is clouding my vision. Master Yoda, yes, I understand your concerns. But I'm not even so sure now that attachment is truly that terrible. It's certainly not ideal, but perhaps not _horrible_, either. It make Anakin fall, yes, but I believe it also gave him reason to be redeemed. If cultivated properly—"

Yoda's eyes narrow. "Against the Jedi Code, it is. A Jedi you are, Master Kenobi."

"And a Jedi I will always be. But I do not have to agree with everything they say. Qui-Gon never did, and he was one of the greatest Jedi I ever knew." He pauses and looks over at Anakin's still form. He appears so vulnerable when he's sleeping, which is not a word he usually terms Anakin with. "I agree, Master Yoda, that we must be able to let go. That type of attachment is nothing but selfishness. But to love another being and to want the best for them—and to have faith in them—is not something that I believe is wrong."

"Ah, but let go, can you?" Using the Force, Yoda hops down off of the table and moves to stand at Obi-Wan's feet. He's not even half the size of Obi-Wan, but something about his gaze commands attention and respect the way height never could. Even now, he has the power to make Obi-Wan feel like a wet-behind-the-ears, entirely green youngling. "If necessary Skywalker's death was, accept it, could you?"

"Yes." And he could. He is a Jedi, and he truly does believe that Anakin would join the Force. It would hurt—it would be agony—but he would deal with it as he dealt with Qui-Gon's death: he would accept it and move on, trying his best to honor his fallen friend.

"Your judgment, your attachment is_ still_ clouding. Cause to fall to the dark side again, young Skywalker possesses. To see it, you simply refuse."

"No. I see it. I just choose to believe that he has enough cause to _overcome_ it." His faith is all he's got left, and to abandon it now would mean losing everything—would mean losing _Anakin_ again. "We all have a weakness that could make us fall, Master. I choose to believe that this time Anakin will be able to control his."

Yoda takes a deep breath that moves his entire body. "In time, see, we will."

Yes, and Obi-Wan is beginning to get the sinking feeling that such a time is near at hand.

_Please, Anakin, prove me right...._

----------------------------

Anakin wakes up to a pounding headache. Though, in all honesty, that's nothing entirely new. He got them on Tatooine sometimes, probably courtesy of a mixture of the heat and stress. But _Force_, this one is something special. What did he do to hurt this much?

It doesn't take long for the memories to filter back in: Yoda and Obi-Wan, the mind search, pain...

"Lie back down, Anakin."

Obi-Wan again. Maybe if he wasn't in so much pain, he'd open his eyes and actually look at him. "Twins okay?"

"They're fine—still with Breha, actually. You know she'll take good care of them. Besides, you're the one who's looking a little worse for the wear right now."

"My head hurts."

"I'm not surprised."

Anakin doesn't like the way Obi-Wan sounds almost guilty. "It wasn't your fault, Obi-Wan."

Off to the side of the bed, Obi-Wan's footsteps echo as he approaches the table. He must have been sitting nearby. "I heard you calling at the end. I would have pulled you out if I'd thought it would have done any good, but Yoda was nearly done anyway, and I doubted that he'd be willing to leave well enough alone. If we stopped, I thought he would likely want to do it again, and there was no sense in making you go through that twice."

"Stupid troll," he mutters, sighing heavily as Obi-Wan's hand settles lightly on his shoulder. He likes the weight. It's comfortable—_comforting_—and he feels himself relaxing for the first time in what seems like ages. Some days, he would really like to be about eleven again, back when Obi-Wan could make just about every mishap better.

"While you're standing there, you think you could help me with this headache? I feel like my head's going to split apart."

The hand on his shoulder tightens for the briefest of moments. "After what just happened, I'm rather surprised that you want anyone in your head."

"If you can get rid of this blasted headache, I'll let you take up _residence_," he snaps, gritting his teeth. This is _Obi-Wan_. This isn't Yoda. Obi-Wan isn't going to perform a mind search just for the fun of it. His former master ought to know by now that he trusts him enough to ease a headache.

His words at least earn him a chuckle. "All right. Breathe deep."

He does, and is rewarded with the gentle sensation of Obi-Wan slipping past his barriers and into his mind. Thankfully—and predictably—it's not like it was before. This is soothing, and he immediately feels the pain beginning to ease, even when Obi-Wan stops around the remnants of his broken bond with Padme.

It's more than a little embarrassing to know that Yoda observed the bond he'd had with his wife. It was a one-sided bond, of course—at least physically—since she wasn't able to reach back with the Force, but her mutual feelings of love and affection had solidified it enough so that it had taken root in his mind. When she died, it had been ripped open, and had been festering ever since.

Before Anakin even really knows what's happening, Obi-Wan begins to painstakingly doctor the open sore, smoothing its edges and closing it. He can't fix it altogether, but he _is _making it feel better, and Anakin finds himself sighing in relief.

When Obi-Wan finally pulls out of his mind, the headache is gone.

"I have to admit, Obi-Wan," he mutters, sitting up, "I'm glad your healing skills are far better than mine."

Obi-Wan stares at him calmly, displeasure flickering in his gaze as he crosses his arms over his chest. "Why didn't you tell me that broken bond was bothering you?"

"I honestly didn't realize you could fix it," he admits, shrugging.

"Those headaches you sometimes had—I'd wager many of them were caused by it. The physical ramifications of a broken bond can be rather irritating if not dealt with."

Well, that's interesting... and more than a little annoying. Those headaches he got on Tatooine were avoidable? Just his luck. "That would have been good to know."

"You could have_ told_ me," Obi-Wan insists, a level of irritation beginning to seep into his voice.

"Master, I didn't think there was anything you could do. I just thought that, you know, she's _gone_, and of course it would hurt. It _still _hurts, but just not physically."

Obi-Wan nods, and as Anakin watches, he can see the lines of Obi-Wan's face easing with the onset of sympathy. It's slight, but it's there, and Anakin appreciates that. "It will still emotionally hurt. Healing the physical results of a broken bond only stops the _physical_ symptoms. What you feel emotionally is something that can't be fixed by anything but time."

"I don't think that will change anything."

"Maybe not."

Oddly enough, Anakin knows that Obi-Wan understands that better than anyone. To the world, he is cold and composed, but Anakin has seen the man who, after bringing his new padawan home to the Temple, cried himself to sleep in his dead master's bed. He won't ever forget that night, because it was the first glimpse that he got of a man who, while he might have presented a hard exterior, cared for those close to him as fiercely as anyone Anakin has ever met.

_He's cold. Coruscant is cold. It's not like Tatooine, where heat pours from every inch of the earth. Here, he needs an extra blanket._

_Obi-Wan's door is just barely open—Anakin can see that much in the dark. Tip-toeing towards it, he internally debates whether it would be appropriate to wake Obi-Wan. He is cold, but will Obi-Wan be angry with him? He doesn't want his new master to be angry—not when he's just getting to know him. Obi-Wan is kind of scary anyway...._

_Still undecided, Anakin reaches the door. Maybe he'll just peak in...._

_From within the room, he hears a muffled sob, followed closely by another. Slowly, he creeps forward, placing a hand on the doorframe as he comes to a standstill, hardly even breathing as he listens._

_Obi-Wan is crying._

_He can't just leave him like that. His mother always told him that he should be kind to people who are sad, and even if she's not with him now, he knows it's what she'd want._

_"Master?" he calls tentatively, slipping into the room._

_There's a hitch in Obi-Wan's breathing, but the sobbing stops. Then, a quick breath before, "Anakin?"_

_"Are you all right, Master?"_

_"I'm fine." He says it too quickly for it to really be the truth. "Was there something you needed?"_

_"An extra blanket. I'm cold."_

_Slowly, Obi-Wan gets up off his bed, little more than a large shadow in the darkness of the room. Anakin watches silently as his new master goes to the closest and gets him a blanket. "Come on," he says softly once he's got the blanket down. "Let's go get you settled."_

_He'd slept well that night, even after Obi-Wan had gone back to bed._

Looking back now, Anakin is fairly certain that Obi-Wan probably welcomed his intrusion. It gave him an excuse to get up and go take care of Anakin, which is really what Obi-Wan has always done when he's had his own problems: he's instead focused on someone else. That night wasn't any different, except that as Obi-Wan settled him back into bed and tucked the blanket in around him, Anakin had gotten the feeling that maybe their relationship could work. Obi-Wan, in that moment, wasn't untouchable—he was _real_, and it was what Anakin had needed to see.

Now, he still remembers the incident and recalls that Obi-Wan mourns too. In that, they are very similar to each other, but entirely different from most other Jedi. They are alone together. How contradictory.

"Does it ever stop hurting, Master?" he asks suddenly, climbing to his feet. "Do you still miss Qui-Gon?"

The line of Obi-Wan's shoulders stiffens, and for a moment Anakin regrets asking. Talking about Qui-Gon always causes Obi-Wan some level of pain. He's honestly a little surprised when he receives an answer. "I will always miss him, Anakin. But, yes, it does get easier. Maybe it does go away. I don't know, but I can tell you that I haven't reached that point yet."

"I miss her, you know."

He looks Anakin straight in the eye, and Anakin can see there—knows beyond anything—that Obi-Wan _understands_. "I know, Ani. I know."

And he does. He may be the only one still alive who does, and, right now, all Anakin can find himself thinking is that what a pity it would be if both of them had never known attachments, because no matter what else it is, their pain is _real_. It helps define both of them, and Anakin doesn't want Obi-Wan to be anyone different than he is right now. He doesn't want to cast aside what pain has taught him. In his mind, he and Obi-Wan without the capacity to care would be a tragedy.

The world has already had too many of those.


	18. Part 2: Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **Still nothing.

**Author's Note:**

Earthwhisper: Oh, yes, Palpy makes an appearance in this. I think he's the guy we all love to hate, really.

Hazelcloud: Thank you! I think Obi-Wan and Anakin's relationship is so fascinatingly complicated. It's lots of fun to explore.

Siriusly Loopy: Yes, Yoda's being something of a jerk. But, then, he's always seemed really cold, at least in my opinion.

pronker: Ah, Obi-Wan sassing Yoda! I like how you put that!

phantom-jedi1: Yes, Anakin is really very afraid of himself.

ObiBettina7: I'll second that. They really are opposite halves of the same whole. I never really enjoy them as much when they're a romantic pairing, though—they always strike me more as a mixture of father/son and brother/brother. I'd sort of say they're like what happens when a son grows up and has a close relationship with his father (eh, before the whole Vader thing, anyway…).

darksidesparkles: Yeah, I wouldn't want anyone in my mind, either.

Kimsa Ki-Lurria: Haha, someone needed to give Yoda some lip. :)

Candace Marie: Thank you SO much!

**Feedback:** Leave it, please!

------------------------

Yoda, as it turns out, is good with the twins. That is to say, they're amused by him. That isn't entirely unexpected, of course—at their age Obi-Wan can remember being entertained by the fact that Yoda was his height while apparently still claiming an age that made him as ancient as just about anything he could imagine, the dirt under his feet included.

Shifting Leia a bit as she sits on his lap, he watches as that fascination continues with a new generation.

Leia is curled up against him as he, Anakin, Yoda, and Ventress sit around a large table. Ventress continues shooting Anakin—who has Luke in his lap—looks that appear as though they should be lethal, and Yoda still seems less than confident in Anakin's redemption, but at least they're finally getting down to the business of why they're here. It might, of course, be easier if he wasn't holding a fidgety five-year-old—one that seems entirely too amused by Yoda's appearance. He has a child who has no qualms about showing that she thinks the venerable grandmaster of the Jedi Order is something entertaining. Just fantastic. Sometimes, she is entirely too like Anakin.

The topic of discussion, when it's introduced, immediately pushes all such thoughts far away.

"Scheduled for execution, Bail Organa is," Yoda begins candidly. "Escaped, he had, and gained access to plans in possession of the Empire. Know that he contacted us, the Empire does. Know how much he told us, they do not."

Ventress's lips pinch into a thin line. "Did he manage to convey the nature of the plans?"

"A tactical readout of a battle station, described, he did."

A battle station? The war is over. What possible need could Sidious have for a _battle station_? Keeping star systems in line, yes, but he already has adequate firepower with which to do that.

"Monstrous, this battle station is," Yoda continues, raising a clawed hand to grip the edge of the table. "Crucial it is that we rescue Bail Organa. Our only hope for revealing the location of the hidden plans, he is."

That gets Obi-Wan's attention. "He has a readout of the plans?"

"Reveal where he had hidden them, he did not. Unsure whether the frequency was compromised, he was."

Anakin sits up a little straighter in his chair, his entire posture radiating interest. He's taking everything in and turning it over in his mind, Obi-Wan is sure. Then, once he's finished, he'll conceive some sort of plan. It's how he operates, and for all of his impulsiveness, he _is_ very tactically gifted. He's just… unconventional. "And do _we_ know that? Just how much was compromised, I mean," Anakin says slowly.

"Know for certain, we do not. However, know that they have not yet executed him, we _do_."

Obi-Wan can feel the tension in the room solidify, settling into a noxious miasma that chokes and stifles. Slated for execution, but somehow still alive: everyone in this room knows _exactly_ what that means.

Ventress, predictably, is the one to voice their thoughts. "Then they know he contacted us, but they don't know what he said. They're torturing him with the objective of finding out."

Obi-Wan has to wonder how she can speak so calmly about that. Or, perhaps, the very reason he wonders is actually the answer: Ventress can speak about it because she understands _exactly_ what the Empire is doing. She knows how they torture people—how they hurt them and break them, make them scream and make them talk, until they sell out everything they believe in. Or, in rare cases, she knows how they fail, and how a prisoner manages to keep his mouth shut. She knows what they do in those cases, too.

Representing the exact converse, Obi-Wan finds the topic disagreeable because he knows exactly how it feels to _be_ tortured—to be that rare one who doesn't talk.

And Anakin—he knows the textbook definitions of torture and has encountered the aftermath, but he has never been the one to dole out pain or to try and resist it. But right now, he_ is_ the one looking as though he'd like to kill Ventress.

_Don't_, Obi-Wan mentally pleads, trying to catch Anakin's eye and dissuade him from doing what he knows is really inevitable. Anakin will say what he's thinking, because that is what Anakin _does_, no matter how complicated or unpropitious it will cause the circumstances to become.

"You _would_ know, wouldn't you?" he murmurs, his voice little more than a venomous whisper.

She would, but everything about her is still composed, seemingly unmoved. There's the barest hint of a spark of dislike in her eyes as she looks at Anakin, but even that is controlled, almost as if she's refusing to give him the satisfaction that a more volatile response would bring. "I would, yes."

Obi-Wan tightens his grip on Leia, willing her not to hear this. He wouldn't have allowed the children to attend this meeting if he'd known what it was about. He'd only thought it would be a quick briefing—not this. He would have thought business of this nature would have been saved for later, when they had more remaining members of the Jedi Order present. Apparently, he was wrong, and he very much regrets it—he doesn't want the twins to hear what's being said.

"Anakin, stop—" he tries to say, more for the sake of the children and what they will hear than anything else.

Unsurprisingly, Anakin doesn't heed him any more than he ever did when he was a padawan. "No," he snaps, remaining seated only because Luke is still in his lap. Judging from the way he tenses as though he's about to spring, even that may not be enough to hold him for long. "No, Master. She doesn't deserve to even _look_ at you after what she did to you. And she doesn't _care_—doesn't feel sorry—"

"Young Skywalker, control yourself you _will_!"

The emotion in the room snaps, and suddenly everyone is concentrated on Yoda. Everything stops, just like that, because Yoda has that effect, and in this particular situation, Obi-Wan cannot bring himself to feel anything but relief. Anakin is already going to be judged in light of this outburst, and considering that very few people here trust him to begin with, he would do well to stop before he damages his case even further.

To his credit, Anakin swallows, takes a deep breath, and nods. "Yes, Master Yoda. I apologize."

"Sorry you are not. Lie you should not. Your concerns I understand, but the manner in which you express them, condone I do not."

Another deep breath. "Yes, Master Yoda."

"Assured we are of Ventress's conversion. Your ally, she is. Treat her as such, you will."

An ally. Yes, of course, and exactly _what_ did she do to convince Yoda of that? He'd dearly love to have _that_ information, but he knows better than to ask. The tension in the room is already thrumming tangibly in the Force, and a question like that is only going to make things worse.

Oddly, Ventress doesn't seemed pleased at Yoda's intervention; her perfectly composed mask has slipped, and she's staring at Anakin with icy eyes marred by a tiny pinch in the corners, brought on by the way she's narrowing them in severe dislike. Obi-Wan would like to say that he believes that animosity is fueled by the power of old grudges, but there's something about the situation that doesn't quite make sense to him. After all that's happened between them, it's no surprise that she'd dislike Anakin—that's entirely expected. But why is she singling him out? Back during the Clone Wars, she'd always disliked _Obi-Wan_ more. If anything, he would have thought _he'd _be the one she still harbored an intense distain for.

Instead, in every encounter he's had with her thus far, she's treated him with something of a grudging respect. She hasn't been kind—hasn't gone easy on him—but she _has_ treated him with the dignity of a fellow comrade. That is glaringly absent in her interactions with Anakin.

With Anakin, she's down right instigating and spiteful.

"As I was saying," Ventress begins after a moment, casting one last hateful look at Anakin before her well-conceived mask of calm slips back over her face, "he is clearly trying to torture him for information. As Organa is thus far still alive, I believe it's safe to conclude that the Emperor hasn't gotten the information he's after."

No, not yet, obviously, Obi-Wan thinks blandly as he wipes his palms on his pants. He's a bit embarrassed to realize that he's sweating. He's a _Jedi_—he can't allow things like this to affect him. During the Clone Wars, he'd learned to cope, but hearing speculation on torture from the person who tortured _him_ is something else entirely.

Suddenly, those memories are a little too close to the surface.

_"You're weak, Kenobi. Clinging to your precious light."_

Obi-Wan takes a deep breath, letting it out as he tries to call upon the Force. He finds it and draws on it for strength. He needs the help; his arms are aching, held too long over his head by chains attached to the ceiling; his muscles protest the strain of standing straight up, having to arch to reach the floor; and his back burns with the fire of a hundred tiny cuts, many infected, some still bleeding. Everything hurts.

He wonders what she will do today. Yesterday, she broke three of the fingers on his left hand. The day before that, she shoved shards of metal up under his finger nails. Last week, she broke a rib, and then blindfolded him, following that up by spending hours forcing him to anticipate when her next blow to that area of injury would come. She can't possibly have much left that she can do to him.

Eventually, she has to run out of ways to hurt him.

Or, maybe, today will be the day he finally escapes.

"If that's the truth, Ventress," he murmurs, trying to ignore his split and swollen lip, "why do you fear my weakness so much?"

He's rewarded with a blow to his face. The cut on his lip opens further.

"You know nothing, Kenobi."

"I know that, very often, we fear the things that we either know to be truth, or that we are aware we are vulnerable to."

The next blow is hard enough to knock him out. Unconsciousness is a welcome reprieve, and one that he didn't expect so soon.

Awakening, he knows, will not be pleasant.

Taking a deep breath, Obi-Wan opens himself to the Force, allowing it to flow through him until his breathing regulates and he feels at least marginally calmer. He _can_ work through this. It's what he does, because it's what_ needs_ to be done. First and foremost, he is always a Jedi. Later, once the job is done, he can have time to consider his own needs.

"If he is indeed being tortured, it's imperative that we find a way to rescue him. We need those plans. We can't allow the Empire to know where they've been hidden."

Yoda nods, watching him carefully. "Possible, rescue may not be."

No, it very well may not be. He knows that, and even as he clenches his hands into fists—a reminder to not wipe his hands on his pants again—he accepts that. Situations like these are the reality of leadership, but they are also what keep him awake at night, searching for a way—_any_ other way—that he could have done things, only to always arrive at the same conclusion.

Sometimes, there_ is_ no other way.

"If that is the case, then the best we can hope for is to obtain the information from Bail Organa." What he's suggesting—it means getting the information and leaving Bail to die. It's not something a Jedi ever wants to do, but sometimes there's no way around it. Rescue may be impossible, but that doesn't change the fact that millions—billions—of lives depend on that information. Bail would understand. He would agree.

That doesn't make the decision any easier.

Yoda gives him another short, almost pleased nod. He's always approves when a Jedi puts duty before friendship. It's cold—Obi-Wan can't deny that—but he knows that Yoda is only doing what he thinks best... and he suspects that the Jedi Grandmaster is more bothered by the loss of life than he lets on. Eight hundred years has simply allotted him a very long time to learn to build a nearly impenetrable mask.

During his lifetime, Yoda has learned to do what needs to be done, and he has learned to live with himself after.

"Decided, it is," Yoda declares after a moment. "The plans, we must retrieve."

-----------------------

Anakin leaves what he mentally dubbed the "war room" in a barely repressed fit of temper. Luke is still securely grasped against him, and for his son's sake he's trying to hold his emotions in check, but he knows the moment he's alone, that won't last.

This is absurd. It's entirely mad, and how can Yoda possibly think he knows what he's doing? Ventress is a menace, and maybe if that little green troll had _seen_ Obi-Wan after he escaped from Rattatak, he might understand better.

But, no, of course not. Yoda was the one who showed up _after_ most of the healing had taken place. He came and lectured on Force-knows-what, probably intending to help Obi-Wan _heal_, even though he never graphically saw what Obi-Wan was healing _from_. How could he? He never saw the deep bruises and cuts marring Obi-Wan's body; never saw Obi-Wan puking back up everything he ate because he was made to ingest flesh-eating maggots; and he never heard Obi-Wan's screams when he had nightmares, because he was never the one who slept in his bed just so he could wake his master up from those nightmares before he hurt himself. He doesn't _know_. He can't—

"Daddy, stop!"

Startled, Anakin hurriedly deposits his son on the floor and ducks back, realizing in the space of half a second exactly what he's doing. "Force, Luke, I'm_ sorry_," he chokes out, holding up his hands and backing away. He didn't mean to lose it like that. He didn't mean it, didn't _mean_ to...

"Daddy, I don't like it when you feel like that."

Luke is sitting on the floor watching him, his eyes bright with worry. His back is pressed against the wall, but he's not shrinking away from Anakin. Instead, he simply looks disappointed in a way that is so reminiscent of Obi-Wan that it's a bit frightening.

"Luke, I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean to do it—" he begins, raking a hand through his hair. He hasn't been that angry in a _long_ time. It's terrifying to think he's still capable of it—of feeling that _strongly_. For so long now, he's stifled his emotions, and to have them come back—to feel with this magnitude again—is frightening. He's terrified of what might happen if he ever loses control.

"Ben would say something about giving it to the Force."

Almost against his will, a startled chuckle slips past his lips. "Yeah, he would. And he'd be right. You should listen to Ben, Luke." Obi-Wan is far more stable. Obi-Wan doesn't touch the dark side. Obi-Wan—

"Can feel you projecting from here, Anakin."

His former master's tone is soft. Amused. So Obi-Wan. Turning around, Anakin is faced with his light--if a bit weary--smile.

"Anakin, stop. We all get angry. You know this. But you can't be _afraid_ of your anger. That sort of fear is as dangerous as the anger itself."

"Easy for _you_ to say," he snaps a bit petulantly as he watches Obi-Wan deposit Leia on the floor beside her brother. "You've never—"

"Anakin, I still experience anger. If you'll recall, it was the base of the reason why Qui-Gon did not immediately take me as his padawan. I've simply learned to control my anger better than you have."

"That's the_ problem_! I'm not sure I _can_ control it!"

Obi-Wan's soft smile is a bit infuriating. "Well, then isn't it fortunate that at least one of us is certain that you're capable?"

Anakin knows when he's been dismissed. Obi-Wan always possessed a way of doing that when Anakin was his padawan—if he thought that the conversation between them had gone on long enough—if they'd exhausted a topic—he would do what he's doing now: he would cut Anakin off with a short, simple declaration. End of discussion. Pushing any further will get Anakin nothing.

Sometimes, he really dislikes that about Obi-Wan.

In lieu of talking, Obi-Wan busies himself by going to retrieve sleep clothes for the children out of their traveling case. "All right, you two," he says, holding up their clothing. "Get changed.

Luke and Leia are perceptive enough to know that, though Obi-Wan's tone is light, tonight he will not be moved by pleas to have a little more time to play; obediently, they move to change into their sleep clothing, twisting out of their dirty garments and tossing them on the floor. Their failure to take care of the dirty clothing earns them a frown from Obi-Wan; when they see his expression, they quickly glance at each other, both sighing heavily in perfect imitations of Anakin before reluctantly picking up the clothing and placing it neatly next to the travel case. "I am glad to see that they did not inherit your inability to listen, Anakin," Obi-Wan quips with a lightness that Anakin suspects is half-forced, and half Obi-Wan attempting to unwind from what must have been a difficult meeting for him as well.

"They must have gotten it from Padme. She had to listen to people drone on in the Senate, remember?" It irritates him that Obi-Wan is changing the topic, but he allows it, because he doesn't want to fight with the one person on his side. Anyway, it's hard to be angry when he knows his master's intentions are good. That's _so_ like Obi-Wan to change the subject in order to divert him from how he's feeling...

It takes him a few moments to realize that his anger has dissipated.

Slowly, he looks back up at Obi-Wan. "You did that on purpose."

Obi-Wan's beard twitches as he attempts—and fails—to stifle a smile. "But it worked, didn't it?" he asks, giving in and grinning as he smoothes a stray curl out of Leia's face. "Give me a little credit, Anakin."

"I give you lots of credit." He tries for irritated, but the attempt falls flat, and he favors Obi-Wan with a grudging half-smile. Once again, his former master has proven that he knows exactly how to manipulate him. He can remember Obi-Wan doing this when he was his padawan, and while at the time he hadn't seen it, retrospect has now given him an embarrassingly good vantage point.

The subtle shift of fabric as Leia fidgets, worrying the sleeve of her sleep clothes with her fingers, catches his attention. "What's the Senate?"

Anakin grins. He probably _should_ give her the textbook definition, but he far prefers the one he'd _truly_ like to say. Maybe something in between. "It's a bunch of people who get together to help make up laws for everyone else to live by."

She wrinkles her nose in distaste. "It sounds like the people Ben doesn't like. Poli-poli—"

"Politicians," Obi-Wan finishes for her, hiding his mouth with his hand in a failing attempt to conceal a smile. "And, yes, the people in the Senate are politicians."

"Then they're bad people? I thought you said _Mommy_ was in the Senate!" Shock radiates in her dark eyes as her tiny brows furrow, darkening her whole face. She appears positively distressed at the possibility.

Instantly, Anakin feels guilty. He shouldn't have teased about politicians. The children need to remember Padme in a good way, and it will be something of chore to explain that their mother was very different.

Unlike Anakin, Obi-Wan doesn't seem worried by Leia's reaction. He simply nods and sits down on the inflatable mattress that's pushed against the wall. Dagobah, as Anakin is beginning to realize, is a very small base, with just the barest accommodations. Fully equipped sleeping quarters don't exist here; instead, they've been given a room in which to set up a few mats. "Your mother was a special woman. She wasn't like most of the other people she worked with. She tried hard to make good laws."

One thing that Anakin truly admires about Obi-Wan is how he always endeavors to paint the children's familial situation in a good light. He is always complimentary of Padme; he never tells them anything about what Anakin did; and he hasn't once mentioned the period of time between Order 66 and Anakin's redemption. It's a selective view of things, true, but it is, in Anakin's opinion, preferable to the blunt truth.

Besides, as Obi-Wan would say, it _is _the truth—at least from a certain point of view.

His interest clearly piqued, Luke scoots over to sit next to Obi-Wan on his mat. "Tell us about Mommy."

"I think perhaps your father would be better equipped to do that than I. I can only fill in the details."

That's... something. He's not quite sure what. Just something difficult and confusing, like a haze settling over his brain as he fights the paralyzing sort of numbness that seems to have overtaken him. Padme resented him—possibly hated him—at the end. What they had became so completely twisted. How can he explain that? How can he make his children understand that he loved her _so_ much that he sacrificed that very love in his quest to keep it?

Inhaling to the point where his lungs feel unnaturally full, Anakin sinks down on his own mat a couple of feet away from Obi-Wan's. "I—she was very beautiful," he murmurs, so completely lost. "Kind. Loving. I see her in both of you." What else? He doesn't know where to even start. How can he possibly do Padme justice? "She..." He runs a hand through his hair in frustration. He just doesn't know how to do this.

Thankfully, Obi-Wan takes pity on him. "She was the only person I've ever seen who was capable of leaving your father at a loss for words," he offers, shooting Anakin a mischievous grin. "I suggest you ask him about the second time that they met, ten years after the first."

Both twins, sensing the beginnings of embarrassment in their father—they are annoyingly perceptive at times like these, Anakin has found—latch onto that piece of advice. He can almost see the anticipation in their gazes, like predatory creatures about to go in for the kill. Later, he'll find a way to get Obi-Wan back for this one. Maybe he'll tell the kids to ask him about Siri Tachi...

"I was nervous," he explains, feeling the knot that seemed to form in his chest at the mention of Padme loosen slightly. Talking is difficult, but it feels right. "I wanted her to see how much I'd grown. I wanted her to be pleased to see me. Instead, I butchered the entire first conversation and made myself look like a complete fool."

Obi-Wan doesn't even bother to attempt to stifle his chuckle. "Your mother was also highly intelligent," he continues for Anakin. "She could convince the most stubborn people to do what she wanted. And she was a good person. A very good person who cared about others. She was also brave. Did you know she fought in the war with your father?"

"Just the first battle," Anakin corrects. "Actually, we both got captured trying to rescue Ben."

Ha. Direct hit: Luke and Leia's concentration shifts to Obi-Wan, who is suddenly looking a bit more reserved. Take _that_ Obi-Wan...

"_You_ got captured, Ben?" Leia asks, wide-eyed and disbelieving. "No _way_."

"Yes, well, it happens to the best of us. On most occasions, it usually had to do with your father deciding to use me as living bait..." Shrugging, he tugs gently on one of Leia's curls, probably in an effort to distract her. "However, the_ important_ part of that story is that your father got himself and your mother captured while trying to rescue me."

Luke giggles. "Daaaad. You got captured _too_?"

Anakin is sure he can feel a blush starting. "Remember, I learned everything I knew from Ben. He got captured first. I was just emulating him."

Leia wrinkles her nose in confusion; Luke simply stares blankly, blinking slowly as he tries to work out what was just said. "Em—Emu—" Leia begins.

"Emulating," Obi-Wan corrects. "It means your father was trying to be just like me. Don't let him fool you. Your father very seldom tried to be like me. In fact, he spent most of his childhood _disobeying_ me." The twins look over at Anakin with expressions rapidly approaching smug; Obi-Wan looks far more pleased than he should. "In fact, he was about as good at listening to me as you two are when I tell you it's time for bed."

Luke's jaw drops, and he stares at his father, aghast. Leia seems to be trying for something more along the lines of irritated. "But _you_ always tell us that we _have_ to listen!" she protests, crossing her tiny arms across her chest in an action that is just so _Obi-Wan_ when he is annoyed that Anakin almost wants to laugh. The twins are picking up his mannerisms and inclinations... including his propensity for noticing things that Anakin would like to avoid. Sometimes they—both Obi-Wan and the twins—are too sharp for their own good. And Leia, like Anakin, seems to possess a way of latching onto the bits of information that will help her advance whatever position she holds. Unfortunately, everything else often gets discarded...

"I've seen the error of my ways," he replies tonelessly.

Obi-Wan smothers a dignified snort of disbelief; he appears completely unrepentant when Anakin shoots him a nasty look. "If _only_ that were true."

"Why didn't you listen to Ben, Daddy?" Luke presses on, rocking back and forth with pure, unbridled energy. There's a twinkle in his eye that suggests he's enjoying tales of his father's youthful indiscretions far more than he should.

Anakin rolls his eyes. He _will_ get Obi-Wan back for this. "Probably for the same reason you sometimes don't."

"Because you didn't want to?"

"Yes."

"Did you listen to Grandma?"

Force, these children are tenacious, and he _really _wishes that Obi-Wan would stop looking_ quite_ so smug. "Sometimes."

"What happened when Ben and Grandma_ both_ tried to make you listen?" Leia asks. He can practically see her formulating a strategy of attack. Whatever he says, he just _knows_ she wants to try to use it the next time he and Obi-Wan team up to make the twins do something.

"They never tried, because I didn't live with both of them at the same time."

The confusion is evident on both of the twins' faces. Apparently, he's just cracked a topic wide open, and he probably should have known that would happen, but it's a little late now. Besides, there was no way that he could really lie—they'll have to find out about his earlier life eventually. It's not as though it's anything bad, anyway—just complicated. "But you said Ben and Grandma raised you!" Leia protests.

Luke, who is frowning, reaches out and climbs into Obi-Wan's lap. He never has liked change much, and this turn of events probably has him a bit unbalanced. "Ben, you took care of Dad when he was little, right?"

Obi-Wan nods as he lets Luke get comfortable. "Yes. But so did your grandmother. I took care of him after he turned nine and came to live with me."

That's a very simplified explanation, but Anakin really has no desire to go into detail about the Jedi and Qui-Gon Jinn—at least not right now. The twins have a basic idea of the Jedi, but he and Obi-Wan have never explained that in detail, nor have they talked about Qui-Gon. They'll save that for another time.

Leia still looks confused. "Didn't you have a Daddy?"

For all of Obi-Wan's paternal influence, he was certainly never anything Anakin would have labeled as "Daddy". Father, yes, but never something less formal. It just doesn't fit Obi-Wan.

"Not a Daddy, no. I had my mother, and I had Ben."

"But then why weren't Ben and Grandma married?" Luke asks.

Oh,_ that's_ a thought, and Anakin can't quite control his burst of laughter at the idea. Not even Obi-Wan's stern glare can make that less funny. Inwardly, Obi-Wan must think so too, because after a minute his serious expression cracks, and a small smile peaks through.

"Grandma was quite a bit older than Ben."

Leia and Luke appear completely unmoved. "So?" Leia says after a moment, arching one delicate eyebrow.

"So, I never even met your grandmother," Obi-Wan finishes. "The man you might have called _my_ father found Anakin and brought him back to where I was living."

So much for not mentioning Qui-Gon. It isn't exactly that Anakin doesn't _want_ to, but he's sure it's going to raise a whole nother set of questions that he's not prepared to discuss. Some of it, he hasn't even really talked about with Obi-Wan.

"But_ that_ is a story for another day," Obi-Wan continues, shifting Luke off of his lap and onto the mat that he and Leia are going to sleep on. When no more information is forthcoming, Leia lets out a massive and entirely overdramatic sigh—her way of letting the world know that she's displeased the conversation is over—before sliding over next to her brother on the mat that they'll share.

Goodnights follow, and a few short minutes later, both the twins are tucked in and Anakin is dimming the lights. Not long after that, the sounds of soft breathing and gentle snores begin to fill the room.

"Time for a drink before bed, Anakin?" Obi-Wan asks from where he's lying a few feet away on his own mat.

"Good idea." There's too much on his mind to sleep right now anyway. Bail. Rescue. Ventress. The children. His own childhood. "Yeah, that's a really good idea."


	19. Part 2: Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **Lucas owns it all.

**Author's Note:**

Finally, the action is up next! Onto the search for Bail Organa!

Dawn of Time: Haha, thank you! I'm not sure this is anywhere good enough for a movie, though. :)

superkawaiifoxy: I'm not sure they view him as a grandpa figure so much as another parent. They're little enough not to make the distinction that if he was Anakin's parent, he couldn't be theirs as well. Interesting thought, though.

VampiricAaron: It's funny that you mention a dark side Obi-Wan. I'm actually working on a story involving something along those lines. It's a bit difficult to make believable, but I'm enjoying it.

Candace Marie: Thank you! I view the twins the exact way you do. In my opinion, they look like one parent and act like the other.

general-joseph-dickson: I wouldn't say Ventress is exactly a Jedi groupie. She's certainly not prototype Jedi, anyway. You definitely have a point about Anakin's refusal to blindly do what Yoda says, though.

pronker: Oh, you're very correct—Ventress still hates Anakin, which is explained in this chapter. And, yes, Padme was older than Anakin—I hadn't thought to put that in here. Good point. Kids logic can be so much fun sometimes…

ObiBettina7: A suicide mission… you might be on to something there. *walks away humming suspiciously*

Kimsa Ki-Lurria: I was just thinking about that one day, and it got me laughing, so I figured I'd add it in here.

Siriusly Loopy: The conversation about Qui-Gon is in this chapter. :)

**Feedback:** Yes, please!

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Anakin looks tired, but in a mentally weary way that Obi-Wan knows will keep him from achieving any much-needed rest. "Here," he says tonelessly, handing Anakin a glass of something alcoholic that was in the galley. He's forgotten the exact brand—it's cheap, whatever it is. He's actually surprised that there was anything alcoholic on the base at all. Yoda probably doesn't know.

"Thanks," Anakin mutters, tipping his head back as he takes a drink. "You know," he says when he finishes, "if someone had asked me ten years ago if you'd ever give me alcohol, I think I'd have laughed at them."

"Anakin, you're twenty-seven years old. That's a world of difference from when you were seventeen."

Anakin raises his glass and tips his head in acknowledgement. "True. But, really, Obi-Wan, what's the real reason for this drinking party? Usually, you do this on your own on the way back from town on Tatooine. Or at our kitchen table, most often after I've gone to bed. Not that you ever get drunk, of course." There's a hint of annoyance in his tone, and Obi-Wan wonders if maybe Anakin would have liked him to, just a few times—just to prove that he had as much trouble handling the circumstances as Anakin did.

"Sometimes it relaxed me enough to sleep. I thought it might help."

In response, Anakin takes another drink.

"So, do you want to tell me what's bothering you?"

He's hardly surprised by the look of sheer incredulity that Anakin shoots him over the top of his glass. "Master, I know that you're a bit emotionally challenged at times, but even _you_ have to have understood why that meeting today upset me."

Emotionally challenged? He supposes that depends on the point of view. After all, _he_ wasn't the one whose emotions prompted him to go on a killing spree... not that he'd ever voice that particular thought. Anakin has enough to deal with as the situation stands, and much of it is rooted in guilt—there's no need to pile on more. "Yes, that I understood. But the talk with the twins I did not. Is there a reason that you're hesitant to tell them about your childhood?"

Anakin sets his glass down. "I'm not ashamed of it, if that's what you're thinking. I just—my childhood is very complicated, and I'm afraid that if I start explaining then I'll have to explain other things, which will lead even deeper—"

"And you might eventually have to explain to your children what happened between you and Padme? What happened when you fell to the dark side?"

Anakin meets his eyes with a look that's a little startling in its openness. "Yes."

"Anakin, you're going to have to explain it to them eventually." Taking a deep breath, he pours his own drink. He has the feeling that he's going to need it; conversations like these are difficult, and his former apprentice never makes them any easier.

"Yes, I know. Later. Not now. They wouldn't understand right now. They're too young."

"You could tell them the basics."

"No, Obi-Wan. Not yet."

Seeing the determination in Anakin's eyes, he backs down before the threads of a fight really even have the chance to begin to weave together. Luke and Leia are Anakin's children, and if that is what he thinks is best, Obi-Wan will respect that.

Even if he disagrees with it.

"Plus, how am I ever going to explain the Jedi to them? They didn't live in that culture. They wouldn't understand why when a Jedi comes to the home of a young slave boy, that boy's mother would give him up so easily. I don't want them to think that my mother didn't love me."

For once, all traces of the elegant words that Obi-Wan is known for cultivating to his advantage seem to elude him. With warring worlds and fighting tribes, he's the "negotiator", but when it comes to helping Anakin, he sometimes feels sadly lacking. "Oh, Anakin," he says, sighing deeply. "I don't know what to tell you, except that anyone who knew the whole story could never think your mother didn't love you. She did what she thought was best for you, even if it hurt."

"Qui-Gon wanted to free her, you know."

"I don't doubt it. Quite often, _I_ toyed with the idea of finding a way to free her. If _I_ wanted to, then I know _he_ must have."

There's something else to the story—something that Anakin hasn't said yet. Obi-Wan is sure of it. The Force is humming with whatever it is, and for Obi-Wan that feeling is amplified, because after thirteen years with Anakin as his partner in the Jedi Order, and then five years alone in the desert with him and two children, he's become rather attuned to his former apprentice's emotions in the Force. Truthfully, he knows Anakin's force-signature as well as his own.

Anakin sighs heavily. "He slept with her, you know. The night he stayed at our house."

Ah, so_ that's_ what he was holding back. Truthfully, it's not quite a surprise. Jedi were forbidden attachments, but there was nothing saying they had to be celibate. It was encouraged, yes, but not expressly spelled out... and Qui-Gon wasn't known for always holding steadfastly to Jedi traditions and ideals.

"I was surprised, and I didn't understand."

"No one could blame you for that. You were nine years old, and you had never had a father. You wouldn't have understood."

"That was part of the reason I went with Qui-Gon, you know. I was so sure that if he'd spent the night with her, he must have loved her. I was positive he'd come back for her, and that I'd see my mother again when he rescued her. And then he died. And you didn't even know her, and suddenly it all became real."

"And you don't want to explain any of that to your children."

"Do _you_?

"They're not my children, Anakin—they're yours."

"That's foolish, Obi-Wan." Sighing, he shakes his head and toys idly with the nearly empty glass in his hand. "You've helped raise them. I couldn't have done it on my own. To them, you're as much their parent as I am. And I don't mind that. I _need_ you. We all do."

"You shouldn't need me, Anakin. That sort of attachment is what got you in trouble to begin with."

A wry smile curves over Anakin's lips, arching them upward and pulling his features tight enough to belay his exhaustion. "I thought you'd eased up on your aversion to attachment."

"I have," he admits, shifting a bit uncomfortably. This is never a subject he really enjoys discussing, mainly because the line between attachment born of love and attachment that can lead to darkness is so fine. Distinguishing between the two is very difficult at times. "You know I have. But you have to be able to let go, Anakin. If I died tomorrow, you can't be attached to me in a way that would drive you into darkness."

Something sad glimmers in his eyes. "And if_ I_ died tomorrow, Obi-Wan? No, even worse, what if Luke, Leia, and I _all_ died tomorrow? Could _you_ let us go so easily?"

Truthfully? No. Not easily. Never easily. But... "I _would_ let you go, Anakin. It would hurt, and I would always carry scars, but I can honestly tell you that I do not believe I would turn to the darkness. I would mourn all of you, but I would continue doing the will of the Force to the best of my ability, and that—_that _is what I want for you."

"And I would like to be able to tell you that I would do the same," Anakin admits, finally pushing away his glass, signaling that he's had enough. "But, really, Obi-Wan, I don't think it's the mourning that would turn me to the dark side—it's the fear of losing something in the first place."

"You have to let go of that fear. That's all I can say, Anakin. I have no other answer for you."

"I know." Slowly, his gaze drops down until he's no longer meeting Obi-Wan's eyes. There's something sad about him, and as he skates his fingers lightly over the surface of the table, Obi-Wan can't help but think that he wanted more of an answer—more of a _reassurance_—even if he knew he'd never receive it. "I don't really want to talk about this anymore. Can we discuss how tomorrow is supposed to go?"

"You'll hardly be in the shape to command _anything_ tomorrow if you don't get some sleep," Obi-Wan criticizes with a roll of his eyes. "But, yes, I suppose we can if it will help either of us feel any better about it."

Whatever Anakin feels about what they're about to do, Obi-Wan is sure he can match it with his misgivings. After Yoda had declared the necessity of retrieving the plans that Bail had hidden, they'd slowly managed to cobble together a plan to execute that goal. Obi-Wan hadn't liked it then; he doesn't like it now. Unfortunately, he has nothing that will work better.

"Honestly? What would_ really_ make me feel better is if Ventress wasn't accompanying us."

Really? He _never_ would have guessed that. It's not like he_ knows_ how Anakin feels about Ventress, and maybe he really needs to go to bed, because he's only this inwardly sarcastic when he's exhausted... "We both know that's not an option, Anakin, just as we know she's a valuable asset."

He's rewarded with another of Anakin's half-smiles. "I don't trust her."

"Oddly enough, I _do_." In a twisted sort of way, he can understand Ventress: she is undeniably loyal, even if her loyalty has led her to commit deplorable acts. The death of Ky Narec ignited her hate of the Jedi, because she believed they had abandoned him, and _her_ loyalty to him was so great that she couldn't accept that. Later, she was loyal to the Sith. She fought for them unyieldingly when she very well knew that it could have meant her own death. It was only when they turned away from her that she renounced them.

As strange as it might seem, Ventress is a creature driven by loyalty.

In that, she and Obi-Wan understand each other.

"I hope you're right," Anakin mutters. "If you're not, we won't be coming home again."

The insecurity that he hears there—probably with good reason—prompts him take a seat next to Anakin. "We _will_ come home again, Anakin. You know the plan. You know—"

Anakin waves him off. "Suddenly, I don't want to talk about this, either."

"All right. Then I suppose sleep would be the next best option."

The glare that Anakin fixes him with really is a sign that he's overtired and stressed; usually, he's not anywhere near this... _adolescent_ anymore. "I'm not you're padawan anymore, Obi-Wan. You don't have to send me to bed."

Yes, this is Anakin reverting to the mode he most often occupied as a teenager: moody, argumentative—picking a fight when he was feeling insecure. When Anakin _was_ a teenager, Obi-Wan might have argued back. Now, he simply gives him a slight nod and turns for the door.

He's hardly surprised when he hears Anakin fall into step behind him.

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When Anakin and Obi-Wan leave Luke and Leia in the care of Breha Organa, Anakin feels as though he's the worst parent ever. He and Obi-Wan lie to them, telling the twins that they'll be back. But they don't _know_ that. They say it like they do, but they _don't_.

Anakin leaves them, trying desperately not to hear their cries ringing in his ears. They scream for him, for Obi-Wan. They want them to come back, to hold them, to not leave them. Would it have been like this if Padme had lived? Would he have still felt this guilty going off to fight a battle if they'd had their mother? What if Obi-Wan was staying behind, and it was only him going? What then?

It doesn't matter. None of those scenarios are reality.

_This_ is reality.

"You know, Skywalker, I'd probably feel better about this trip if _you_ were staying behind with your children."

Ventress's voice is an irritant, and as he glances up towards the top of the entrance ramp where she's standing, his insides seem to itch with annoyance. She's dressed in what he considers a needlessly tight suit—black, of course—looking every inch the assassin that she used to be. Maybe her lightsaber is even still red. It wouldn't surprise him. Why _anyone _believes she's changed is a concept he can't even begin to grasp.

"And I'd feel better if I never had to see your face again, Ventress."

"Entirely mutual, boy," she snaps, crossing her arms over her chest. Obi-Wan, who is flying as co-pilot, is already preparing for takeoff, and Anakin is aware that they're operating on a timeframe. He _should_ respect that and ignore Ventress in favor of concentrating on the task at hand.

Unfortunately, knowing what he should do and actually doing it have never been something he's been very skilled at accomplishing in tandem. Even if he's aware that it's a fault, he still runs far too heavily on his emotions to do much in the course of correcting that particular inadequacy.

Consequently, instead of walking by her, he stops scarcely a foot from her face and tries to stare her down. "I don't trust you. And I want you to know that if I catch _any_ hint from you of a threat towards anyone I care about, I will find a way to kill you."

It's a rare person who can hold Anakin's stare when he's truly trying to intimidate. Ventress, predictably, seems to be one of those people. "Your brats aren't here, Skywalker, and Kenobi is capable of taking care of himself. Save your threats."

"It's not a threat. It's a _promise_."

She arches an eyebrow. "Mmhm. And when you're making promises like that, how can you possibly expect anyone to believe that you've returned to the light?"

Her words steal his breath, not because they're spoken by _her_, but because they touch something in his conscience. His faith in his own scorning of the darkness is so easily shaken these days, and he always feels as though he's fighting for a hold on the light, even when he's securely grasping it. Threats like that—she's _right_. They aren't something that a Jedi firmly entrenched in the light would make.

He intends to respond with some sort of scathing remark. Instead, what comes out of his mouth is something entirely different. "Why do you hate me so much?"

Surprisingly, Ventress looks a bit taken back; the line of her shoulders stiffens, and she draws herself up a bit taller, as if she's trying to convince both of them that she's his equal in everything, height and physical strength included. "Because you don't deserve the redemption you've been given. I have no respect for a man who would turn on everything he's ever believed in just for the promise of power. You had everything, Skywalker—respect, honor, people who loved you—and you threw it all away for something so entirely selfish. I have no use for a turncoat."

"You don't know what you're talking about. You don't know_ anything_ about me or about what really happened."

He's thrown a little off balance by her casual shrug. "Maybe not," she snaps, venom dripping from every syllable, even if it _does_ seem to be an easy admittance for her. "But everyone on this base knows what you did to your wife and to Kenobi. We all know she turned up dead, murdered by Sidious's clones. That was _your_ doing, Skywalker, intentional or not. We—the people involved in the rebellion, that is—also managed to hack the security tapes from the night that you brought Kenobi to see Organa. It disgusts me that you did that to him, and yet he still stands by you. You don't deserve that."

She's right—about all of it—and somehow that keeps his anger in check. There's no quicker suppressant than the truth. "No one knows that better than I do. But do you really want to talk about what we deserve, Ventress?"

"No matter who I was fighting for, I was loyal to them," she counters, almost visibly seething. "Can you say the same? I was loyal until I found out they weren't loyal to me. I might have been misguided, but I'm no traitor."

And he certainly _is_ that. There's no denying he switched sides. She's already said that everyone here has seen evidence of what he's done. They've witnessed the aftermath of Padme's death. They've seen how he hurt Obi-Wan. Quite frankly, he's surprised no one has tried to kill him yet. It's what he would like to do if he were in their situation.

"You want to talk about how we've wronged people who didn't deserve it? Anything I've ever done to Obi-Wan, you've done worse. You made the lightsaber wound I put in his back look like_ nothing_. I _saw_ him when he came back from Rattatack. I will never forgive you for that."

Disdain creeps over her face, marring her features and warping them into something sinister. "I don't _want_ your forgiveness—I don't need absolution from a sinner worse than myself." A sneer twists the corners of her mouth. "I didn't have the power to hurt him like you did, Skywalker. You were the one thing he broke the code for, and you traded that loyalty for power. I could have tortured him to death, and it wouldn't have hurt him as much as what you did. Nothing could have."

He would like to tell her it's not true—would like to deny that she's just cut him deeply. The truth has a tendency to do that, and, worse, there's rarely a way to refute it. In this case, he doesn't try. Denial won't change anything.

"I won't make the same mistake twice."

Anger simmers just under the surface of her unconcealed dislike—he can tell. "You should never have even been given the opportunity to fail again." With one final glare, she turns on her heal and walks into the ship, leaving her words lingering in the air behind her, weaving their way deep into Anakin's mind.

Truth is, again, far more vicious than any lie.


	20. Part 2: Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **I can only wish…

**Author's Note:**

Anakin T Skywalker: I'm back to updating! :)

jmeec316: I'm glad you're enjoying it! The dialogue (especially between Anakin and Obi-Wan) is definitely my favorite part to write.

darksidesparkles: I wanted to make sure that Anakin didn't get off without any consequences. I really enjoy stories about his redemption, but it always irritates me when he just comes back to the light without experiencing any fallout.

Candace Marie: I just tossed the Qui-Gon/Shmi in for fun. Glad you liked it. :)

general-joseph-dickson: Sadly, I don't think Anakin could take out the Empire on his own. It would be fun to see him sass Yoda like that, though.

pronker: I have to admit, I've had a lot of fun writing Ventress. She's a complicated person.

Kimsa Ki-Lurria: The intensity is about to increase.

**Feedback:** Yes, please! And, if you're feeling particularly inclined, I'd much appreciate it if you'd take a moment to look at the story I posted the other day, _The Road to Perdition._

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It doesn't take someone of superior intellect to notice that something has gone on between Anakin and Ventress. Obi-Wan can sense it in the barely concealed tension between them, and he finds himself wondering exactly what was said. There's so much bad blood between the two that it could be anything.

"Ready, Anakin?" he asks, leaning back in the co-pilot's seat as he waits for his former padawan to initiate their takeoff. Dagobah is a misty, swampy world, and he'd prefer to have Anakin's mind on the task at hand—not on Ventress. Even if Anakin probably _could_ takeoff using only half his ability—he is, Obi-Wan has to admit, _that_ good a pilot—there's no reason to tempt fate.

"Yes, Master," Anakin answers. He tosses a furtive glance at Obi-Wan before taking a deep breath and visibly pulling himself together; he sits up a little taller, straightens his shoulders, and pushes a few stray pieces of hair back from his face. "Yes, I am."

"You'd better be," Ventress mutters from where she's strapped into her own seat.

Obi-Wan really, truly wishes that she would suddenly go mute, not only for his own sanity, but for the sake of the mission, which won't succeed if she and Anakin kill each other before they even reach their destination. "This time, try for something better than what happened at the Battle of Coruscant, hmm, Anakin?"

He achieves his desired reaction—a ghost of a smile flickers over Anakin's lips and into his eyes. "That's a landing which is going to be classified as 'impossible' in every flight manual for a thousand years, Master—a landing which, may I remind you, I achieved. And you tell me to do_ better_?"

Shrugging, Obi-Wan laughs. "You only landed_ half_ the ship, Anakin. That's substandard. Imagine if you did that on a routine basis."

"If I try for a repeat performance, I'll make sure it's _your_ half that I don't land."

"Naturally."

Joking feels good. It's how they were back when they were Kenobi and Skywalker, the _Hero With No Fear_ and the_ Negotiator_, during the Clone Wars. In a time of war and death, that banter had been one of the few things that had kept them sane. They'd been surrounded by unspeakable atrocities—teasing and being teased had brought a shade of normalcy and humanity to a terrible situation... and Obi-Wan had needed that. Anakin, he suspects, had needed it as well.

"All right. Strap yourselves in. Takeoff shouldn't be too bumpy, but it's difficult to tell with all this fog."

Obi-Wan does as he's told. Anakin has a certain flair for dramatic flying, and without the twins on board, he's far more likely to indulge that, especially because he undoubtedly knows it will anger Ventress.

He's proven right when Anakin breaks through the atmosphere at a far higher speed than is necessary. "Are you trying to get us _killed_?" Ventress snaps once the ship levels out and Obi-Wan begins to log the coordinates for their jump to hyperspace.

Instead of contrition, Anakin regards her with a sort of smug satisfaction. "What's the matter? Forgotten what it was like to fly faster than a bantha can walk, Ventress? You're as bad as Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes as he double-checks the coordinates. "On this matter, Anakin, I am firmly on her side. Flying as your passenger always puts one's own life and sanity at risk. Mental trauma is almost a given."

Anakin glances at him out of the corner of his eye. He's hardly even trying to control the obvious beginnings of a jaunty smile. "Oh. So that's what happened."

"Funny."

"Hyperspace coordinates ready?"

"Yes. Make the jump whenever you're ready."

"Preferably before my piloting skills take their toll?"

"That would be nice."

Ventress gives a light snort of disgust. It's hard to tell exactly what she's irritated with, though Anakin's presence would probably sum it up nicely. If the trip _to_ Dagobah was any indication, that's probably not going to get any better.

"Okay. Here we go."

The stars blur in familiar motion as Anakin activates their hyperdrive and they streak forward. It's satisfying to be in a ship again, he thinks as he feels the well-remembered rhythm of the working machine around him. He never truly enjoyed flying, but he's grown used to it, and the familiarity is comforting. If he wanted, he could close his eyes and block out the world around him, and it could be just another mission, assigned by the Jedi High Council. If he didn't think about it, he could pretend that it's fifteen years earlier, before the Clone Wars and Anakin's fall, before everything was destroyed. He could be coming home from a mission, to the Temple where his friends are; to where the Force sings and hums more clearly than anywhere else; to where there's always a buzz from the activity of the initiates and the padawans, and maybe even the masters themselves. He could be going _home_.

"Master?"

There _is_ no home left. It's gone, and no matter how he tries, he can't stop the tiny pulse of pain that won't quite cease. Though he's forgiven Anakin, he will still never cease to see the bodies scattered through the Temple.

Forcibly pushing his thoughts aside, he turns to face Anakin, trying not to show how deep his thoughts had drifted. "Hmm? Yes, Anakin?"

Anakin stares at him. "Nothing. You just looked far away for a second."

"Only thinking. Maybe later I'll even meditate. You should try it occasionally."

The lighthearted jab accomplishes what he intended: he succeeds in diverting Anakin's attention. "I'll think about it. Maybe I'll meditate on the possibility of meditating."

"Which is to say you'll dismiss the possibility immediately."

Anakin shrugs and grins. "Maybe."

"Yes, well, while you're occupying yourself with... whatever else you do, I think_ I'll_ go try to get something accomplished."

"We should be at our destination in about ten hours."

"Thank you. I'm aware."

Slipping out of the co-pilot's seat, he heads for the door, intent on taking his leave. It's somewhat of a relief when Ventress rises as well. Leaving her and Anakin alone is tantamount to risking the start of a disaster far larger in scope than anything the Clone Wars threw at him.

He_ is_ a little surprised, though, when she glides soundlessly after him, following him to the back of the small ship. "Is there something you needed?" he asks, careful to keep his tone crisp and intentionally polite.

"There's a very good chance that one or more of us will die if we stick to the current plan." Very like Ventress. No preamble—just harsh, blunt opinion. She's never pulled any punches as long as he's known her, neither figuratively nor literally.

"I'm rather used to those odds, as you very well know."

It's a little irritating the way she rolls her eyes and crosses her arms as she leans against the wall. "How is it possible for you to do this?"

"Do what?" he asks, genuinely confused.

"Pride is not one of your faults, yet you're completely undeterred by what normal people would call unfavorable odds," she begins, the ice in her voice clearly indicating it's not entirely a compliment... though, not fully an insult, either. "You always have been—you have confidence that you can do the job you need to do, and somehow, you always manage. You never seem to have any doubt."

"I simply know that I don't have another viable option. _Do or do not—there is no try_. Success or failure. It's one or the other." Pausing, he strips off the outer layer of his tunic and places it on the floor in lieu of a meditation mat. It won't be comfortable, but at least it will be adequate. "And I've never been taught to fail."

"Failing, as I'm sure you well know, is not something people need to be _taught._ For some, it's natural, no matter what their upbringing has been."

That's hardly even a veiled insult. She'd do better just to openly broach the topic he knows she's angling at. "If you want to talk to me about Anakin, then say so."

"You'll change the subject."

"Perhaps. Or I might straight out tell you that, one, it's none of your business, and, two, I don't wish to discuss it."

"Either way, I won't get answers."

She's impossible. Taking a deep breath, Obi-Wan reaches out to the Force for balance. He needs it—Ventress is as bad as Anakin was when he was a teenager and wanted an answer to a question that Obi-Wan didn't particularly want to discuss. Back then, he'd often contemplated throwing his padawan out of the nearest air lock. Now, he's shamelessly fantasizing about doing the same thing, but simply with a new target.

"You are quite correct. So stop trying. I gave you all the answers you need, back on Tatooine."

Her eyes narrow and a scowl mars her features—she's clearly aware she'll be getting no more information. "Either way, Kenobi, you'd better get all of your emotions worked out now, because once we reach out destination and our mission starts, we won't have time for conflicted feelings."

"Was that what you came here to tell me?" he asks mildly, dropping down to his knees on his robe. If she'll just leave, he'll be able to accomplish some much-needed time in the Force.

"No. But I think you need to hear it."

"And who says I'm overly conflicted?"

"Please," she says, snorting lightly. "Do _you_ really even know where your loyalties _truly_ lie? Which do you care about more? The Jedi or your family? If it came down to it, could you sacrifice one for the other?"

"Not all of us have the luxury of only having one thing that we value, Ventress. But to answer your question, I would do what I needed to do."

"You keep saying that, but do you even know what that would be?"

"I'll meditate on it," he counters, hoping that it rings as the clear dismissal he intends for it to be."

Apparently, it does; she rolls her eyes and heads for the door. "Fine, Kenobi, I'll see you in ten hours. Have fun with your _meditation_." Judging from her sneer, he's guessing that she doesn't think he'll get far.

Ten minutes later, when her words about duty and priority and his own misgivings in regards to the mission are niggling him too pervasively to achieve much along the lines of decent meditation, he realizes that she was right.

------------------------------

"Dropping out of hyperspace in three, two, one..."

The ships jerks under them, giving a quick, short protest that Anakin has come to expect and realize isn't so much a protest at all as an... adjustment. It's a familiar motion in a completely unfamiliar place, but, then, that lack of familiarity has become expected as well—he's used to dropping out of hyperspace into places he's never been before. That was one thing he'd cherished about being a Jedi: there was always something that he'd never seen before, an adventure for the little boy from Tatooine who had sometimes wondered if he'd get to have any adventures at all.

Obi-Wan leans back in his chair as he double-checks the information on his datapad. "According to the report that the rebellion was able to intercept, there should be a freighter utilizing this part of the shipping lane in—oh, there it is."

Anakin can make out a ship cutting a path towards them, a tiny speck against the backdrop of space. "Jam its transmissions."

"Done," Obi-Wan murmurs from beside him. His fingers ghost over the buttons in front of him, ensuring that any contact that ship might have made with an outside source is effectively cut off. Anakin doesn't feel the need to check. It's _Obi-Wan_. He'll do the job right.

Time for his part. Carefully, he turns the ship towards the freighter and heads in its direction. Beside and behind him, he can feel Obi-Wan and Ventress in the Force, watching and waiting. This is the easy part, he thinks, trying to reassure himself. The freighter won't be contacting anyone. Getting on board is the simple part.

Docking _is_ remarkably simple. That's fine—he'd expected it to be. He also expected the five armed clones that they encounter when they disembark.

What he hadn't expected was the way he feels when he ignites his lightsaber to aid Obi-Wan and Ventress in neutralizing the threat.

During the five years he spent with Obi-Wan on Tatooine, he'd only ever used his weapon to practice. He'd sparred with Obi-Wan countless times, and while that had felt strange at first—felt _wrong_, considering what had happened the _last _time he had engaged in a serious battle with Obi-Wan—he'd gotten used to it. Obi-Wan had helped him get past it. But this—_this_ is something else entirely.

This is igniting his weapon with the intent to wound—possibly even kill—and he's not even sure he should have that option anymore. He certainly didn't prove himself responsible with it the first time around.

Still, the thrum of his weapon, heavy and solid in his hand is a feeling he'll never forget. All the battles, all the missions—this weapon _is_ his life in situations like these, and even if his mind is screaming as he incapacitates one of the clones (a superficial wound, and not deadly), his body remembers what to do. It remembers, and it does its job like a well-oiled machine.

"Five seconds. Not bad," Ventress mutters darkly as Obi-Wan uses the Force to knock out the final remaining clone. "You boys have still got it."

"We'd best hope so, hadn't we?" Obi-Wan counters, sounding every bit as macabre as Ventress. "Now, then. Let's do this as quickly as possible."

During the Clone Wars, Anakin wore a limited amount of body armor. He hadn't donned as much as Obi-Wan had, simply because he hadn't had the patience for the feel of it. Now, as he slips into full clone regalia, he remembers exactly why he disliked the feel of armor so much. It's heavy on his body, weighing him down and constricting his movement. He's never liked constrictions, physical or otherwise.

"I can't understand how they ever wore this stuff," he complains, adjusting the breastplate. "It's hot and uncomfortable and—"

"Completely necessary," Obi-Wan finishes for him, shooting him a look of mild reprimand. Before, he might have added a line about how they are Jedi and they must do their duty regardless of how uncomfortable it is, but Obi-Wan has been more sparing of lines like that in the last five years. Though Anakin never says anything, he suspects it's because Obi-Wan isn't quite sure whether Anakin is a Jedi or not, and, perhaps, he doesn't really want to find out.

Truthfully, Anakin isn't really sure _what_ he is anymore.

"You two are a bit short for clone troopers," he remarks once he, Obi-Wan, and Ventress have completely encased themselves in the armor. He'll be able to pass easily, but the height difference _is_ going to present a difficulty in making his two companions appear authentic.

Obi-Wan's sigh is audible, even from behind his helmet. "No one will be looking that closely."

"You'd better hope so. You're _short_, Master."

"For the majority of the time that I've known you, Anakin, you've been shorter than I," he points out, exasperation hanging clearly in his voice.

"And for the remainder of the time that we know each other, I'll be taller. I think you got the _short_ end of that, personally."

"I suppose that I should at least give you_ some_ credit for proving yourself capable of making a pun. I wouldn't have thought you possessed the subtlety necessary to do so."

Ouch. Good thing he knows Obi-Wan doesn't really mean it... mostly. His former master always _has _been capable of turning just about everything into a potential lesson. Although, sometimes he doesn't even bother with the subtly—he openly chastises Anakin for whatever spur-of-the-moment mess he's landed himself in.

_No, Anakin, you can't just blast through that!_hint_ at anything, Anakin? Telling the dignitary that we've been assigned to escort through the wilderness of his home planet that he is really in need of a shower was _not_ necessary, nor was it helpful, padawan._

Sometimes, Anakin, tact and diplomacy will get you much farther than brute force!

Do you ever simply

The muted thumping of Ventress's boot on the floor as she taps her foot in impatience draws bother of their attention. "If you two are done bickering like younglings, we've got a job to do."

Right. Back to business. He can heckle Obi-Wan later... provided that there _is_ a later.

Hastily, they make their way to the front of the ship. Anakin slides into the pilot's chair of the freighter and wastes no time in making contact with their target. Once he has, he slips back out of the chair to make room from Obi-Wan, who has always been the better of the two of them when it comes to covert operations. He's frighteningly good at pretending to be someone he's not. "Empire requesting identification."

Obi-Wan swallows heavily before replying, his voice muffled by the helmet to sound like a Clone's. "Transmitting identification."

It takes a few seconds, but they don't have to wait long before they receive an answer: "Identification verified. Permission to dock granted."

Apparently, those codes that the rebellion obtained _were_ good. Anakin's thankful—he hadn't really even let himself think about what he'd do if they hadn't been. Best not to dwell too much on possibilities—he's always been better at living in the moment. He'll leave the big picture to Obi-Wan.

"Understood," Obi-Wan replies before cutting off the transmission.

Ventress leans back against the wall. "Now for the hard part."


	21. Part 2: Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: **Someday in my wildest dreams, perhaps.

**Author's Note:**

Anakin T Skywalker: The back and forth was incredibly fun to write.

Dawn of Time: Here's the update you wanted. :)

darksidesparkles: Thank you! I enjoy their teasing, as well.

general-joseph-dickson: Good question…

pronker: Onto the action! People actually fight in this update. I'm rather proud of myself for finally getting here. :)

**Feedback:** Yes, please! And, if you're feeling particularly inclined, I'd much appreciate it if you'd take a moment to look at the story I posted the other day, _The Road to Perdition._

--------------------------

For a man as highly intelligent as Sidious, Anakin would have expected him to come up with a better name for his technological terror than the _Death Star_. It's an apt description of the space station, yes, but it's almost disappointing in its blatancy. It's a highly visible object that kills things. Yes. He's got that. The name is overkill.

For what feels like the millionth time, he finds himself wishing that when he was Sidious's apprentice, he'd made himself a copy of the plans. He'd gotten a look them—had seen the _Death Star_ in its beginning phases—but all he knows is what he saw. He has nothing concrete to hand to the rebellion. They can add that to his list of failures. Maybe when he dies, they'll even put it on his memorial... not that he thinks they'd ever give him a memorial. He hadn't encountered all that many members of the rebellion, but he doesn't doubt for a moment that he isn't exactly a valued—or trusted—member. More than likely, instead of trying to honor him in death, they'll probably be the people who lead the dancing on his grave.

They get onto the _Death Star_ and off the ship without any trouble. Anakin truthfully isn't surprised about that. Right now, the only people they're likely to have a run-in with are clones, and they're as easy for a Force-sensitive being to fool as an average Senator is to bribe. A small amount of..._ persuasion _(force enhanced, of course), coupled with the correct clearance codes, and they believe that they're really facing true Clone troopers, that Obi-Wan and Ventress are every bit as tall as any of them, and that everything is as it's supposed to be.

Anakin knows they won't be so lucky should they encounter anyone who's capable of using the Force.

Once they leave the docking bay—slipping away unnoticed, thanks to a few more mind tricks—they slink into a side hallway to regroup. "Right, then," Ventress begins once they're satisfactorily hidden. "I'm assuming you both know what to do."

Obi-Wan nods slightly, the tension in his jaw the only sign that he's at all nervous. "Yes. You'll be deactivating the tractor beam so that we'll all be able to get out of here cleanly. Anakin and I will be getting Organa. We'll meet back down here and commandeer a ship."

Anakin wishes it were as easy as it sounds. "Let's just make this quick."

"Remember, if anything goes wrong—"

"We're aware," Obi-Wan replies, his tone short and clipped, dismissive in a way that lets Anakin know very clearly that Obi-Wan doesn't want to think about that possibility. "May the Force be with you, Ventress."

She dips her head, though her eyes never leave Obi-Wan's face. They're searching for something, though Anakin doesn't know what, but she must have found it, because she finally looks away and pulls her hood up to hide her face. "Likewise." Concealed in the shadows—a place that Anakin personally thinks she's never left—she slips away, almost like she's never been. It's the mark of a good assassin.

Hopefully, it's also the mark of a good freedom fighter, if that's truly even what she is.

With Ventress, it's difficult to ever actually know.

"He's in detention level three, cellblock 'C'."

Anakin nods. "Plan for getting there?"

"Don't get caught," Obi-Wan replies, catching Anakin's gaze and holding it. "We get there, we get the information from him, and then we try to get him out if at all possible. Understood?"

"Yes, Master." It's a challenge to ignore the cold feeling that's settling heavily in his stomach, but he succeeds in pushing it aside, if only for the time being. _Get him out if at all possible_. But, if it's_ not_ possible...

"Good. Then let's go."

Like Ventress, they glide out of the hallway where they're hiding into the adjoining one, then into the next and the next, each made of cold, unfeeling metal, unremarkable in every way. Without the Force—without Jedi training—they would, at best, be hopelessly lost. More likely, they would probably be_ captured_.

Every sound is a potential threat, and this is the part of missions that Anakin has always hated the most. In an open fight, few can match him, but covert operations—infiltration, especially—have never been his strength. Obi-Wan is right—subtly is _not_ one of his strong points, and what he's doing now requires that in spades.

Reaching the cell block takes them perhaps twenty minutes, maybe a little less. He can feel Obi-Wan reaching out with the Force, quietly twisting the minds of the clones they encounter, convincing them that there is nothing to see here. All is quiet. All is well, and maybe it is for_ them_, because the alternative to mind tricks is nothing short of a station wide slaughter. He and Obi-Wan could kill them all. They might even deserve it. _Anakin_ thinks they would, at least. After everything these clones have done—turning against the Jedi commanders who fought by their sides and saved their lives during the war—they deserve some sort of retribution.

It's a nauseating thought, though no worse than the realization that he's no better than any of them.

He turned against the Jedi, too. He slaughtered in greater numbers than any of these Clones.

He deserves to die more than any of them.

"There's too many of them to use any mind tricks on, Master," he whispers, crouching down next to Obi-Wan just outside the entrance of the cell blocks. Stretching out with the Force, he can feel the vitality of the many life forms nearby. There's a heavy guard around Organa's cell. Sidious _must_ know it won't be enough to stop a trained Jedi. He's clever enough to know that, which must mean that stopping them outright isn't what he's after.

"This is a trap, Master."

"I agree. If Sidious wanted to stop us from reaching Bail, he would have employed the use of Force-Sensitives. All he wants is notice that we've arrived."

Frustration seizes Anakin heavily enough that his grip on his lightsaber turns white-knuckled. "It's a clever trap. We can't avoid it. Not if we want to get to Bail."

Obi-Wan frowns. "No, but the question becomes, can we outmaneuver him? If we're quick enough, we might be able to get in and out before he can do anything about it. If not, we must at least be able to get either Bail or, in the worst case scenario, the information out. Either way, at least one of the three of us has to be able to escape in order to deliver the information safely back to the rebellion."

"Sidious wouldn't just_ let_ that happen. He knows how important that information is. Besides, one out of three isn't a very good count." Shaking his head, he worries his lower lip with his teeth as he thinks. There has to be another way. "Why would Sidious even leave him this unguarded? He knows Bail has vital information."

A pause; the worry on Obi-Wan's face is the farthest thing from reassuring. "Yes, but, Anakin, have you ever thought that perhaps he's willing to trade that information for _you_?"

The cold feeling in the pit of his stomach seems to expand until he wonders if he might vomit. "He can't have possibly known it was going to be _us_. He can't have known we'd be sent on this mission. He didn't even know if we were in the rebellion. He doesn't know where we've been for the past five years."

Or, maybe that's exactly it—he_ didn't_ know.

Maybe Sidious only hoped. What if he was gambling on the fact that _eventually_ a trap like this would lure him and Obi-Wan in? And, in the meantime, what if he was finding it to be a useful way to capture members of the rebellion?

"So _stupid_," he hisses, slapping a hand to his forehead in frustration. "He _doesn't_ know. He only suspects that, sooner or later, we're going to show up. How many of these traps do you think he's laid? How many members of the rebellion have gone on what really amount to suicide missions because of traps meant to _catch_ the rescuer in hopes that it might be me—or someone who has knowledge of my whereabouts?"

Anakin wishes he could feel the reassuring warmth of Obi-Wan's hand through the Clone armor when his former master lays a touch on his arm. "Anakin, I won't lie and tell you that you don't have much to be sorry for. But, truthfully, _this_ is _not_ your fault."

"Maybe not, Master, but don't you see what we've walked into? Bail is the biggest lure Sidious has had in years. Sidious is a master at turning things to his advantage. When Bail got the plans, Sidious accepted that failure and twisted it into a trap, just like he did with the failed occupation of Naboo. He _knew_ that the rebellion would send their best for this, and so even if it wasn't me or you, he'd be catching someone of value to him. But given your history with Bail—what _I _did to you when I took you to see him—he correctly guessed that the rebellion would contact us for this—"

"Wait."

And Anakin does. He falls silent, because the look on Obi-Wan's face is haunted enough to make him want to listen.

"Yoda's too smart of this. He would have seen this coming, he—"

Anakin's stomach flips over, and it's by pure strength of will that he isn't sick. This can't be right. He can't _believe_ that it is. Or maybe he can. He's not even sure _what_ he believes. Right now, it's all coming down to what he can deny. Belief is something else entirely. "He _did_ see this coming."

"Force," Obi-Wan whispers, massaging the crown of his head with his hand as though he's got the beginnings of a headache. He probably does. "He's intending to make an indirect trade."

"Me?"

"You."

"Wizened old bastard of a green troll."

"Oh _Force_," Obi-Wan says again, angrier this time, but still under control. He's so controlled, even now as he grips his lightsaber so tightly that his knuckles turn as white as Anakin's were when he did the same thing just a short while ago.

"He was going to let Sidious have me, because he knew that's what he wanted—he knew it would distract Sidious long enough for you to rescue Bail. Bail—and possibly you—would get away, because I'd have sprung the trap and bought you time."

Obi-Wan looks as though someone has placed a particularly revolting smell under his nose. "All things considered, it's a good tactical plan."

"Yeah, and ethically it's about as deplorable as you can get without technically breaking the Jedi Code."

"Not from his point of view."

"And from your point of view?"

"Anakin," he whispers angrily, his eyes widening enough that Anakin can almost see his reflection in them, "you can't possibly think I _agree_ with his plan?!"

"Not really, no. I was just checking."

"Well, don't. It's insulting."

"Sorry."

"Regardless, Anakin, we need to decide what to do. And considering we're sitting behind a wall outside the detention cell, we should probably hurry."

"Decide? What's to decide? I would have thought the answer would be obvious. We have a policy on traps, don't we?"

A flash of sadness flickers on Obi-Wan's face, making him look ten years older than he really is for just a moment. Anakin would bet it's one of those memories that Obi-Wan never talks about.

"What?"

"Nothing. I just—I said the same thing to Yoda when we went back to Coruscant to infiltrate the Jedi Temple."

"Pity you didn't leave him there."

"_Anakin_," he reprimands, and suddenly Anakin is ten again, and he's just broken the kitchen stove... or twelve and has gotten in a fight... or thirteen and has been caught kissing a girl in the closet... or maybe he really shouldn't even be thinking about this right now.

"Right, well, _anyway_, we've already wasted too much time sitting here talking, Master. I vote for getting in and out before anyone can catch us."

"There's no guarantee that will happen. We won't have much time."

"I don't _need_ much time."

Obi-Wan sighs. "Anakin, don't be too overconfident—"

"I'm not," he quips, shooting his master a cheeky smile with a assurance that he doesn't truly feel. "I know I have _you_ to back me up."

"Anakin—"

He arches an expectant eyebrow. "We're burning time, Master."

"_Anakin—"_

"Let's go."

The truth is, he knows there are many holes in his plan, and if he sits here and discusses every one of them with Obi-Wan, he might just lose his nerve. _The Hero With No Fear _was never an entirely accurate moniker. Obi-Wan often told him he'd be better termed _The Hero With No Common Sense_. He's always preferred to think that he was just particularly good at not considering the overwhelming odds until _after_ he'd gotten the job done. There was no time for fear if he never actually contemplated the high risk of the situation.

Before Obi-Wan can launch another one of his protests, Anakin shoots out from behind the wall, confident that Obi-Wan will follow. He will. He always does.

Anakin's face slips into a smile when he hears Obi-Wan fall in behind him.

The first clone who notices them doesn't waste time: he fires off a round straight at Anakin, who promptly volleys it back, enjoying the way the shots spray into the group of Clones, cutting them down in a deadly spray of fire. One clone falls. Then another, and another, and another—

The first swing that makes contact with an actual body throws him back into a familiar rhythm. In the wars, it had been metal bodies that he'd destroyed, but this isn't so different as long as he doesn't look at the corpses or acknowledge the smell of charred flesh that hangs in the air after a kill. If he doesn't let himself think about the grunts and cries of pain, maybe he won't even hear them.

Beside him, he can sense Obi-Wan, as deadly and accurate as he is. Obi-Wan, ironically, has more experience at this than he does. _He_ was the one who killed the clones when he broke into the Temple with Yoda. He was also the one who killed them in Padme's apartment.

"Move," Obi-Wan snaps, taking one final swing. The last clone falls, and Obi-Wan steps over him, his face pinched and tight, hiding what Anakin knows to be regret. Killing affects him in a way it never quite did Anakin.

Anakin envies him that.

"This one here," he tells Obi-Wan, gesturing to a door around the corner and little ways down the row of cells.

He shoves his lightsaber into the cell door, the heat of the melting metal warming his face as the door disintegrates at the contact with his blade. Physically, it's a quick process, but it's still too slow to suit him. He doesn't have any time for delay. Too much is depending on his speed.

As soon as he's cut through the solid door, he kicks it down, smiling in satisfaction as the broken metal crashes to the ground.

"Anakin, try not to alert the _whole_ space station to our presence, will you?"

"It's a little late for that, Obi-Wan. They know we're here."

Movement just inside the door quiets both of them. Then, a voice: "If that's the case, then I suggest we leave."

Bail Organa doesn't look good. Back when Anakin knew him, he was a fairly robust man in good shape who possessed a handsome face. The person before him now might be better described as a wraith of his former self: his cheeks are gaunt and his eyes sunken; his muscles have atrophied to the point where Anakin doubts he could do a push-up; and he's thin enough to suggest that whatever meals he gets, they don't come regularly.

Worst of all, when their gazes connect, Anakin can see just how haunted his eyes are. "_Skywalker_?" Organa asks incredulously.

Obi-Wan grabs his arm—he's so painfully thin that Obi-Wan's entire hand is able to wrap around it—and yanks him forward. "We'll explain later. For now, just understand that you can trust him."

Bail looks wary, but he knows as well as anyone that he doesn't have another option. "Fine." Though he sounds curt, he does give Anakin the courtesy of a nod. "Let's go."

Their footsteps echo against the durasteel floors as they tear down the hallway. Getting out is going to be harder than getting in: the only actual entrance and exit is the way they came in, and there's a very good chance it's already blocked off. That will be where Sidious will attempt to contain them, he's sure. They'll have to find a way around it.

"Got a plan?" Bail asks Obi-Wan as they run. He's already breathing hard, the physical strain that captivity has had on him becoming clearer by the moment.

"We're making this up as we go."

"Kenobi, have you gone _insane_?"

Obi-Wan doesn't even pause. "Quite possibly, but we'll discuss the semantics later."

The sound of footsteps pounding on the floor gives them all cause to pull up short. Anakin already knows what they'll see when they make their way back out into the main room: clones, waiting for them to immerge from this cellblock, as they eventually _do_ have to. "If there_ is_ a later."

Yes,_ if_, and if there's not, they need to find out what Bail knows _now_. Apparently, Obi-Wan is thinking along the same lines. "What do you know about the plans?" he asks.

"I hid them in R2-D2. Palpatine had him on board. He'd already stripped all the knowledge out of him, but I think he was hoping he'd eventually come in handy—and he did. To _me_."

Anakin instantly feels something resembling remorse. He hadn't meant for Artoo to fall into Palpatine's hands. That's why he'd sent him and C-3PO to Naboo with Padme's body. "Is Artoo still on board?"

"No. He hid in an escape pod and jettisoned over Tatooine."

Obi-Wan looks as if he's just swallowed something rather large and is on the verge of choking. "_Tatooine_?"

Anakin can't believe that. Fate can't be _that _cruel, can it? "You _have_ to be kidding me." Furiously, he rakes a hand through his hair. _Tatooine?_ Seriously? How unlucky can they get?

Apparently, they still have farther to fall: something bangs further down the hall. More clone troopers, perhaps.

Bail scowls. "We aren't going out _that_ way."

No, obviously not, Anakin thinks as he swallows down the lump of unease rising in his throat. "Do we have another way?" As calmly as he can manage, he scans the area for something—_anything_—else. There's nothing. Why would there be? Sidious designed this place to be inescapable.

While he's looking, Obi-Wan is already pulling out his lightsaber. "We'll _make_ another way."

Anakin nods. That's really the best chance they have, but he still can't help thinking that Sidious has to have planned for the eventuality that they're considering making into a reality. He's too good at what he does to have missed something so predictable. Unfortunately, every option that they have suffers the same flaw, and this plan is better than walking into a swathe of clones.

A few quick cuts later, there's a man-sized hole in the side of the wall. "Go," Obi-Wan orders, gesturing for Anakin to go first. He does, followed by Organa, with Obi-Wan bringing up the rear. "Wait."

Anakin isn't sure what Obi-Wan is doing at first. Then, once he does, he can't quite hold back his grin. Obi-Wan is sealing the hole with his lightsaber, which is a tactic Anaki* has always favored. It stalls the enemy and buys them time, which it will do here, but most of all it's rather nice to see that Obi-Wan has picked up tricks from him, too.

The place that they've forced their way into is actually another detention block. "I'll get the door," Anakin volunteers, hurrying forward and jabbing his lightsaber into the durasteel exit in front of him.

Obi-Wan shakes his head. "No, wait!"

Anakin stays his hand just as he's about to slice through the wall. "What?"

"Go up instead. Sidious will probably be guarding the next halls over."

"Then won't he be guarding the ones above and below, too?"

"Probably. That's why we're going to go up until we're out of the detention area and then cut into the ventilation system."

"All right. Good plan."

Bail doesn't look convinced. "I can't use the Force to jump up into the ceiling like you both can." The uncertainty is obvious in his face as he watches Anakin cuts them a hole. All three of them move back just before the chunk of metal falls downward and slams into the floor.

Obi-Wan gestures upward. "We'll help you."

It's not a very strenuous undertaking to hoist Bail Organa up with the Force. They could probably even do it physically, given how unhealthily thin he is. For all his misgivings about the Jedi, even Anakin has to admit that they never treated prisoners like this. How could he have possibly thought that the Sith weren't evil when they do things this terrible? _No one_ deserves this.

Two levels later, the three of them find a ventilation shaft and crawl up inside of it. This time Obi-Wan takes the lead, undertaking the tedious job of navigating them through the ventilation shafts. Anakin, truthfully, has never had the patience to keep his mind about him while navigating an intricate array of twists and turns, and while he _can_ do it, he prefers not to. This is a situation that is more closely suited to Obi-Wan's strengths.

"Are we near the hanger?" Anakin calls up to Obi-Wan a few minutes later, keeping his voice as quiet as he can while still being heard.

"Yes. Above it, actually."

"Then what are we waiting for?"

"There's something... off."

"This whole situation is off."

"I've just got a bad feeling."

Fantastic. During the years that they've worked together, Anakin has long since learned that Obi-Wan's bad feelings have an inconvenient way of being notoriously correct. "He's guarding the hanger bay, too, you think?"

"Would it really surprise you?"

"Not really, no."

"Any ideas?"

He's about to suggest to Obi-Wan that maybe they try for the escape pods when a blast from behind them cuts off any utterance he might have made. "What was that?" he says instead, trying to ignore the surprise and lack of balance in his own voice.

Obi-Wan has gone completely still, every muscle tense and ready. "Move, Anakin. Move _now_—"

He never gets the chance. Instead, the Force screams a warning, just before the ceiling drops out from under them, crumbling as if it were never solid. There's nothing there for him to grab, and he flails, his hand catching only on falling durasteel, but nothing that will stop his descent. They plummet downward, hurtling toward the floor, and he just knows that no amount of Force cushioning is going to stop this from hurting.

The floor comes up fast, and when he finally does smash into it, he finds that, yes, it really _is_ as hard as it looked. The impact is stunning, and pain explodes through him, but even as he lets out a string of Huttese curses, he knows that nothing is seriously damaged. If he just let's the pain go into the Force, he'll feel better. Let it go, and he'll be all right. Already, it's fading.

Obi-Wan slams into the floor beside him, Organa landing half on top of him. That might have been an accident, or it could possibly have been Obi-Wan purposely trying to cushion the Senator's landing. Either way, he winces in sympathy when he hears Obi-Wan's groan of pain.

Gasping for the air that the impact drove from his lungs, he staggers to his feet and pulls out his lightsaber. "Get up," he gasps, using the Force to pull Obi-Wan, who is still recovering, to his feet.

Obi-Wan makes it up just as the clones, who _are_ predictably guarding the hanger, open fire. "This day just gets worse," Obi-Wan grouses, deflecting a shot with a particularly vigorous swing.

Anakin couldn't agree more. "That ship—there. It's the best chance we've got." It's a small ship off to the side of the hanger. If they can get to it, they should be able to take off before anyone can stop them. Hopefully, Ventress has done her job and has disabled the tractor beam.

Surprisingly, Anakin _does _regret that they'll have to leave her behind, but if it comes down to choosing between her life and the lives of himself and his two companions, it's not really a choice at all.

It's not an easy thing to fight back against highly trained clones—especially not when he and Obi-Wan are also engaged in protecting Organa. The clones have no compunctions about killing Bail—that much is obvious. He's outlived his purpose as bait, and now all he represents is a liability. He knows too much to be allowed to live.

"This isn't going well, Master," he grinds out through clenched teeth as he deflects yet another stream of blaster fire.

Obi-Wan doesn't pause; he sends a blaster bolt straight back into a clone's chest. "Mind on the mission, Anakin."

"There are too many of them."

"The only other option is surrender."

"No, it's not, but we can't hold them off. _We_ need to go on the offensive."

"Anakin, _no_! We won't all be able to make it onto the ship! Someone will be left wide open, without adequate protection—"

He doesn't have time for caution right now. More clones are pouring into the hanger as they speak, and before long even the defensive—let alone the _offensive_—won't be enough. They have to act _now_.

"_Anakin—"_

There's urgency blaring in his tone, but Obi-Wan still follows Anakin. He's never abandoned him in a dire situation before, and Anakin isn't surprised that he hasn't decided to start now.

Anakin surges forward, hacking through the first clone with ease. Then the second. A third. Fourth. Fifth, six, seventh, eighthninthtentheleventh—

It becomes almost mechanical after a few minutes. He's aware of Organa between him and Obi-Wan, and as he cuts a swathe through the line of clones, Obi-Wan protects his back, working furiously to deflect shots. Anakin can feel him through the Force—can feel his _skill_ as he works to perfection at something he wasn't born to do: kill. He may be good at it, but it's something he does out of necessity—not nature.

Anakin refuses to think about how he's not sure if that's the case with _him_.

The entrance ramp to the ship eventually comes into reach. Sweat is pouring off him, and his hair is drenched; his arms ache with effort; and his mind is exhausted, but he's almost there, and he's _going_ to make it.

That is, until a stray blaster bolt sears into his shoulder.

He hates the way he sounds when he gasps in pain. It sounds weak, like he's less than he needs to be. Maybe he is, because as the pain rips through him, he realizes that he's dropped his weapon. The sound of metal on metal is audible for just a moment before it's lost in the din of shouts and blasts and men's cries of pain.

Anakin can feel Obi-Wan's immediate anxiety in the Force, but true to the man he is, his former master rushes Bail past him and towards the ship, stopping only to toss Anakin his own lightsaber, as Anakin's has been quickly recovered by a clone.

It's not enough. The few seconds in which he had no weapon prove enough for the clones to advance. If he gives now, they'll be able to overrun the ship before it gets off the ground. If Obi-Wan and Bail don't leave him behind to hold off the clones, _no one_ is going to be able to make a clean exit.

They were _so_ close to making it out of here... but close doesn't count.

Only success does.

He makes his decision in the half-second that he has to think about it, running on pure instinct and adrenaline in lieu of self-preservation. "Get him on the ship and _go_," he shouts over his shoulder, hoping desperately that Obi-Wan will, for once in his life, listen to him. His master has to recognize that the situation is impossible. He would make the same decision if he were in Anakin's place.

Thankfully, he's not.

This is Anakin's destiny.

His alone.


	22. Part 2: Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: **If by now you haven't figured out that I don't own SW, then I don't think there's much hope that you ever will…

**Author's Note: **

swimmingcheetah: Yup, Yoda and Obi-Wan are going to have a bit of a disagreement. Though, not nearly as bad a one as Sidious and Anakin will have.

InkSpellWeaver: You're right: he's got to concentrate on getting out of the mess he's currently in before he can even attempt to work his way back into the Jedi Order.

Lightside: The twins are with Breha Organa right now. They're certainly still a big concern of Anakin and Obi-Wan's, though.

aliceandjasper: Haha, I love that image of Anakin as a little child! And, yes, Palpatine is about to play a much larger part in this story.

Hazelcloud: I hate Sidious as much as the next person, but it's one of my pet peeves when he's portrayed as an idiot. He's a smart guy! That's why he makes such a great and enjoyable villain—the guy we all love to hate. And Anakin will need the luck.

general-joseph-dickson: Anakin certainly thinks so.

pronker: Thank you! I really appreciate how you always take the time to comment on the little things like the pacing and characterizations. I find it incredibly valuable—it helps me know what I'm doing right and wrong.

ObiBettina7: I know I'm updating quickly, but I'm heading back to college soon, and I'm not quite sure how often I'll be able to update then. We'll find out, I suppose, since I won't be all done this story by the time I go back. It's all written, but editing and posting is another thing entirely.

**Feedback:** Please leave some if you're feeling so inclined (it's nice to have the readers' opinions of what's working and what isn't).

------------------------

Obi-Wan understands almost immediately what Anakin is asking of him. He _knows_ why it is tactically correct, just as he's struck by how entirely _wrong_ it is. He will not abandon Anakin to this situation, and he cannot imagine anyone with an ounce of compassion doing any differently, personal relationships aside. Jedi don't leave each other behind.

And they _are_ Jedi.

In the time it takes him to draw breath, he's grabbed Bail by the front of his shirt and hauled him so close that he can feel his breath. He _has_ to be sure—has to see the truth in Bail's eyes when he asks his question. "Bail, can you fly this ship?" he demands.

"Yes." No hesitancy. Good.

"Then do it. Get yourself off this planet, and call on the emergency line. You'll get someone."

"Obi-Wan—"

"NOW!"

He administers a harsh shove with the Force, enough to send Bail stumbling up the ramp and into the ship. He knows that Bail understands the situation. He won't be pleased about leaving them behind, but he knows better than anyone just how vital the information that he's carrying is... and the information _will_ be delivered.

Only _one_ person is needed to insure that.

Scarcely ten seconds later, the ship rises and blasts forward, surging out of the docking bay and into space. _Please, please, please, let Ventress have succeeded in getting rid of that tractor beam _he mentally begs the Force. _Please_.

Then, he has no more time to think.

Before he turns around, he can feel something in the battle shift. It's a transition in the Force—it becomes less deadly as a whole, while aspects of it morph into something more lethal. He doesn't know exactly what it is, and he has no time to contemplate it.

"Surrender," he shouts at Anakin. "There's nothing more we can do." Anakin has his—Obi-Wan's—lightsaber, making fighting an impossibility. In all actuality, all he is right now is another body that Anakin has to defend—not that it would have mattered anyway. Anakin is going to be captured regardless of whether Obi-Wan fled on that ship with Organa or stayed to be apprehended.

What it really comes down to is the fact that he isn't willing to abandon his padawan, _former_ notwithstanding… because Anakin has never stopped being important to him, simply because he no longer wears a braid. He is always going to be Obi-Wan's padawan, his son, and his brother... and he's not leaving him to face Sidious alone. If they die, they're going to die together.

That's just the way it is.

This is _their_ destiny.

---------------------------

Anakin can hardly believe what he's hearing. Obi-Wan's voice shouldn't be echoing in his ears. His master should be _gone_. This isn't _right_... and, yet, he's never felt any more secure in the light than he does right now.

Obi-Wan isn't leaving him, because he _believes_ in him.

That's more than anyone back at the rebellion can give him. It's more than his own logic can facilitate. It simply_ is_... and it _is_ effective.

He deactivates his lightsaber and puts his hands over his head, taking a deep breath as Obi-Wan steps up beside him and does the same. They'll surrender just like they always fought: together.

"Ready for this, Master?" he asks, grinning cheekily.

Under Obi-Wan's beard, Anakin can see the returned smile lurking, though it's obscured by worry and anxiety that Obi-Wan hasn't yet released to the Force. "Always."

It's all the answer he needs.

"Good—"

Anakin's answer is cut off when a blaster bolt strikes him straight in the chest.

----------------------------------

"ANAKIN!"

The blast is not deadly—Obi-Wan knows that before he even looks. He can feel it in the Force, but seeing Anakin's face go wide with surprise and then just... nothing—it's enough to numb his limbs with shock. He can't feel himself, but he still moves, still kneels down next to Anakin, and still checks for the pulse he knows he'll find.

He still feels a flush of relief course through him when he finds the steady beat against his fingertips.

"Hands behind your head! Stand up!" one of the clones barks, waving his blaster in Obi-Wan's direction. He wonders if, should he not do as told, the clone will only hit him with a stun shot, as he did with Anakin, or whether he will be considered expendable and be executed on the spot. Probably the former. Sidious will likely want him for _something_. At the very least, he'll want to gloat.

The fact remains, there's no reason to tempt fate. How many times did he tell that to Anakin? He might as well live by his own lessons.

"Turn around!" the clone orders once he stands up.

Obi-Wan does, allowing his hands to be cuffed behind him.

He can't contain the gasp that's torn from him by sheer shock. The Force is gone. There's nothing. He's trying to reach it, working fervently to weave together the tendrils of energy that are always there for him, but he's pulling loose ends, and the Force is slipping through his grasp as easily as moving water would. He can't touch it. He can hardly feel it.

"Move!"

He does, his mind still reeling from the sheer _impossibility_ of being cut off from the Force. Not again. He can't do this again. He nearly went insane last time. The flashbacks that he witnessed—he _can't_ do that again.

Gulping in a lungful of air, Obi-Wan briefly closes his eyes, trying to ignore the feel of a clone's hands on his arms, pushing him forward. He will endure this, just as he's endured everything else. This is only temporary.

More than likely, death will soon give him a convenient—or inconvenient, as the case may be—exit.

He's not sure whether to be comforted or entirely stripped of hope.

He forces himself to decide on the former.

Behind him, he can hear Anakin being lifted up by a few of the clones. His boots make a peculiar nose as he's dragged between two clones, his feet trailing listlessly behind him as he's pulled along. Obi-Wan concentrates on the sound as he walks along beside his own escort. He will think of nothing else beyond that sound. Nothing else. He will concentrate on that, and let it calm him with the simplicity—with the need to think of nothing else. He will remain calm.

And then, when the time arrives, he will fight back.

Perhaps it's an already condemned man's—because he_ is_, Sidious having already tried to kill him once—last need to inflict damage. He's not sure it even really matters. All he knows is that he_ is_ a Jedi, and he _will_ fight to the end. If he fails, he will fail with honor and effort.

And, maybe, somewhere in the infinite sea of impossibilities, there might just be the _possibility_ of a chance for survival.

Who knows? The Force has done stranger things.

-----------------------------------

Awakening is not always a pleasant thing, Anakin has found. As a Jedi, he'd only sporadically had the luxury of sleeping in a proper bed; more often than not, he found himself waking in a sleeping bag inside a tent erected in a war zone, on the ground in a cave, under a tree in the forest of some distant planet in the Outer Rim—any number of odd and unpleasant places.

As far as unaccommodating conditions go, this is not the most horrendous thing he's faced—at least, not as far as tactile surroundings.

As far as the situation goes, he couldn't do much worse.

"Stun shot?" he asks, disliking how gravelly his voice sounds.

Obi-Wan is sitting beside him on the floor, knees up loosely to his chest with his back and head resting against the wall. He appears almost contemplative as he lets his head roll to the side when he moves to look at Anakin. "Yes," he agrees, resting his arms on his knees.

From where he's lying, that gives Anakin a good look at the two thick cuffs which are secured tightly to Obi-Wan's wrists. The instant that Obi-Wan sees where Anakin's gaze has gone, he jerks his arms back and crosses them over his chest. The gesture is useless—the damage has already been done. Anakin has seen everything that he needs to.

"He didn't," he mutters, almost unsure why he's even asking. This is _Sidious_. He _knows_ just how cruel that monster—man is not a term Sidious deserves—can be.

Obi-Wan smiles wryly. "Oh, he did. Though, I rather think it's a gesture meant more for you than for me."

"I'd imagine."

"And is it working?"

"Yes."

"You shouldn't let it."

Nice advice from the man he tortured by stripping him of the Force. Obi-Wan may be correct in stating that Sidious is preventing Obi-Wan from touching the Force in the same manner that Anakin did in a well-placed attempt to remind Anakin of exactly what _he_ did, but Obi-Wan can't possibly understand the reality of that for Anakin. It's a reminder of all his past failings—of the way he harmed those he cared about. It's a cruel sign, meant to slip up inside of him and undo him from the inside out. A sort of pre-attack. It makes sense: if the enemy is at war with himself, how can he possibly fight anyone else?

The tactic is very characteristic of Sidious... and also very effective.

And, yes, Anakin _is_ bothered by it.

"We never talked about it, you know."

Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow. "About what?"

"About how I cut you off from the Force."

"Do we _need_ to?"

Anakin sighs and sits up, only belatedly realizing that he has been using Obi-Wan's rolled-up outer tunic as a pillow. "Thanks," he mutters, tossing it back to him. "And I don't know. Just saying 'sorry' and being done with it feels so... inadequate."

Obi-Wan catches his tunic with a well-timed grab. "It's not inadequate. It would have been if you hadn't changed, but you backed up your apology with something substantial, Anakin. You gave me my friend back."

"Not sure why you _wanted_ him back..." Suddenly, his mechanical hand looks very interesting. Or maybe the floor beside it. Anything that keeps him from having to look at Obi-Wan is worthy of study.

And Obi-Wan, blast him, clearly knows that and seems no more inclined now than he ever was to allow Anakin the luxury of avoidance. Looking away from the person who's made him uncomfortable is an old habit—one that Anakin learned as a slave. Drop your eyes when guilty, and maybe you won't get hit as hard. Back when he was first Obi-Wan's padawan, his master had spent a good deal of time leveling Anakin's gaze up, forcing him to meet his eyes and making him see that there was going to be no physical retribution for whatever he'd done.

Now, it's not that he expects Obi-Wan to hit him—he never really did. It's just easier to look away than to see all of his faults reflected back at him in the gaze of another.

Apparently, it's also just as easy as ever for Obi-Wan to slip a hand under his jaw and tip his head back until their eyes meet.

"I wanted him back because I love him." So simple. To someone who didn't know Obi-Wan, they wouldn't understand just how much it must have taken for him to say that out loud.

"I don't think I deserve that."

"I'm rather tired of hearing about what you do and don't think you deserve, Anakin," Obi-Wan replies a little curtly. His tone is somewhat softened by the gentleness in his eyes. He looked like that sometimes when Anakin was younger, most often when he was lightly scolding him. It had taken Anakin some time to figure out that the softness that he saw, even in the midst of a firm correction that was not to be disobeyed, was Obi-Wan's way of expressing that he believed Anakin could correct the mistake... and that he was already forgiven for making it in the first place.

"I don't always understand you, you know."

Obi-Wan laughs, and drops his touch from Anakin's jaw. "Imagine my surprise."

"But... I'm glad you're here." In a cell? About to meet Sidious? "Ah, well, not _here_, exactly, but..."

There's something oddly graceful in the way that Obi-Wan ducks his head and smiles. He looks tired, but even in his exhaustion, he is still oddly precise in his movements. "Anakin, sometimes, there are just things that are too important to give up on. You may not understand why I have done what I've done, but I think that, in some small way, you _do_." He pauses there, his smile widening briefly, as if he's thinking about something only for him, to which no one else is yet privy. "You understand what it's like to fight for a cause, to believe in it with all your heart, but to know that, on some fundamental level, it has flaws. That doesn't mean you stop believing in it, but it does mean that at some point you have to understand that you can't entirely define yourself by it, either. This, I think, was what Qui-Gon saw—it was why he was willing to disagree with the Jedi. And, whether I liked it or not—or whether I took years to realize it—he imparted that to me... along with you."

"An interesting gift," Anakin says, laughing a little derisively.

"Oh, yes, it was. _You_ were. Interesting indeed. And, Anakin, you were so flawed. So perfectly, perfectly flawed, and at first I resented you, but _blast_, it took almost no time at all for me to start caring about you. You had all the potential in the world, and I pushed you, because I knew you could be a greater Jedi than I could ever be... and that's what I wanted for you."

"Then I failed you."

Obi-Wan holds up a hand. "No, you didn't. You failed to be a perfect Jedi, yes, but _I _failed to see that, as I've said, there were flaws to the Order. It wasn't perfect. Its ideals, I think, were close, but somewhere along the line we forgot that we were _imperfect _beings—no one was possibly perfect enough to follow the code completely, and the code... if it was not followed to entirety, became a stumbling block. We strived to hide attachment, because it wasn't something we were supposed to have in the first place. But to hide something of that magnitude—it can be as damaging as allowing it to exist unchecked. Above all, we forgot to realize that sometimes our biggest imperfections can be our biggest strengths. And you, Anakin, you were so _different_, with imperfections I didn't understand... and you made me confront imperfections of my _own_ that I didn't understand."

"Attachment, you mean?"

He nods, looking mildly contemplative. "It always comes back to that, doesn't it? Everything always comes back to that one flaw... if it is really even a flaw. That all depends on your point of view."

"It's always about point of view with you, isn't it?" He can't quite hold back his chuckle, and he looks away, laughing softly.

"You'll find, Anakin, that many of the truths that we cling to _do_ depend on our point of view. You don't understand why I still believe in you when you've failed so badly, for example. But, perhaps, if you could simply understand that, from my point of view, you _haven't_ failed, you would understand where my faith in you comes from—and maybe you'd have some in yourself."

"That's impossible. I _did _fail."

"Yes... and no. You _did_ fall, Anakin. But you also came back. And that, to me, is, ultimately, success. You weren't the Jedi I wanted you to be, but you have become the _man_ I knew you could be. You're a good person. You're stubborn, sometimes moody, and you do possess a disturbing proclivity toward the darkness... but I also believe that you have the strength of will and the light to resist it. And I believe that you _will_ resist it, regardless of outside influences." He stops for a moment, straightening his legs out as he shifts against the wall. "If that does not adequately explain why I believe in you, then let me attempt to present it this manner: I understand that the Jedi, while admirable, were a flawed cause. We were serving the code as much as the Force. That was wrong—a Jedi should serve the Force, first and foremost. And I am sure, Anakin, that the Force gave me you, and to abandon you now—in any circumstance—would not only be against its will, but it would make everything that I have fought for my entire life mean nothing. It would be letting the darkness win. And, selfishly, it would destroy the best parts of me to see you fall back away from the light."

Anakin swallows down any reply he intends to make and, for once in his life, just thinks before he speaks. So, Obi-Wan stays because of a combination of duty and his own personal emotions. How appropriate. Duty and his own feelings have always been the two things that conflicted Obi-Wan the most, and to now have them working together for the same cause—it certainly explains exactly why he's so tenacious about refusing to give up on Anakin.

It is, ironically, also just what Anakin needs to hear—has needed to hear for _years_. He has always craved that unyielding acceptance of himself, flaws and all. That doesn't mean Obi-Wan doesn't try to_ correct_ his flaws, but it does mean that he accepts them as part of Anakin... and still cares for Anakin despite them.

And, as Obi-Wan said at the beginning of his explanation, some part of Anakin_ does_ understand.

He would do this for Luke or Leia. He would never, ever give up on them, no matter what they'd done. Ultimately, he would always try to bring them home, even if it meant sacrificing everything of himself to do it.

The Jedi were foolish to think that attachment was only a weakness.

If cultivated properly, it can become a person's greatest motivator—their greatest strength.

That makes sense. Everything Obi-Wan has done for him suddenly makes sense when he compares it to what he'd do for Luke and Leia. He _understands_... and that makes him laugh, because there is nothing else he can really think to do. It's completely irrational, maybe, but once Anakin starts laughing, he can't stop, not even when tears start streaming down his face. And when he finally _does_ get himself under control, all he has to offer by way of explanation is, "Do you know how much easier your life would have been if you'd gotten a _normal_ padawan?"

Obi-Wan, apparently not at all disturbed by his oddly-timed bout of laugher, only nods and gives him a small, wry smile. "Do you know how much less of a person I would have been?"

Maybe. But Anakin knows that _he_ certainly would have been lost... and the Force knew that. He might have downright resented Obi-Wan sometimes when he was a child, but he always knew he needed him, even when he fought him on Mustafar. He'd loved him even then, though the emotion had been entirely twisted and selfish. It had all been because of what _he_ wanted—the dark side's version of love—but it had still kept him from killing Obi-Wan.

"We're probably going to die, you know," he says casually after a few moments of introspection.

"Mmhm," Obi-Wan agrees, rolling his shoulders a little. They must be getting stiff from sitting so long. "That's certainly nothing new."

"Is that why you told me all this?"

"No. I told it to you because I think you need to hear it. For better or for worse, you've always needed to have things regarding emotions spelled out for you."

"Then why didn't you ever do that _before_?"

"Because it's not something that's easy for me to talk about."

Anakin knows the truth in his words, and somehow that makes them mean even more. He still remembers being a child and snuggling up against Obi-Wan to watch a holovid, to sneak a look at whatever was on his datapad, or to just talk to him. He'd always enjoyed the way his master would loop an arm over him and let him sit close, but he could never understand why he'd never tell him that he cared for him, like his mother would have. Now, it occurs to him that Obi-Wan allowing the physical proximity _was_ his way of saying what he hadn't been raised to verbalize—what he wasn't even supposed to be feeling. But for Anakin, as a child, it hadn't been clear enough.

And, maybe, _he_ was never clear enough either. He never _asked_ for words, after all.

"We have to be the most dysfunctional family I've ever seen, you know that?" he declares after a few moments. "We're downright crazy."

"Luke and Leia are_ not_ crazy." Obi-Wan sounds indignant which, coupled with the look of mild reprimand that he fixes Anakin with, sufficiently conveys his annoyance. "They are perfectly normal, well-adjusted children—"

"Last week Leia asked me if her lightsaber, when she gets one, could be bright pink with purple stripes. Do most normal, well-adjusted children ask things like that?"

"Force," Obi-Wan mutters, running a hand over his face. "That's almost as bad as Mace Windu's purple one. And they don't come in stripes. Only solid colors."

"And does the fact that we're even discussing this seem _at all_ abnormal?"

Obi-Wan waves him off. "Fine. I concede your point. But now, Anakin, I am tired, and I think I'm going to take a nap. Wake me when one of us is called for torture and persuasion, all right?" Not looking at Anakin—which belies that his words have more weight than their off-handed delivery might first cause them to seem to have—he rolls up the tunic that Anakin gave back to him and presses it down to the floor. It will make a serviceable pillow—Force knows, Anakin has seen him sleep on much worse things.

"Somehow, I think you'll notice anyway," he murmurs, a little darkly.

"Maybe. Maybe not. I'm_ that_ tired."

"You know, I'm _still_ tired."

"Then take a nap. As you've said, we'll probably notice when someone shows up. And it might also irritate Sidious to think that we're calm enough to sleep."

"Do we _want_ to irritate him?"

Obi-Wan pushes his head down into his tunic and turns away from Anakin, rolling over so that his back is to him. "Whatever he plans to do, it will likely hurt quite a lot anyway. The satisfaction of irritating him might be worth it."

Anakin doesn't bother to hide the grin that cracks over his lips; Obi-Wan's back is turned anyway. "You're lucky the Jedi Council never heard you talk like that."

"Really? I guess I never told you about what we talked about _after_ council meetings were officially adjourned."

"No. You never told me stories like that. Apparently, you thought they encouraged bad behavior."

"Yes," he replies with a small snort. "I used to be responsible."

"Oh, you're still responsible." He's the one who makes sure Luke and Leia eat all their vegetables, go to bed on time, and do chores—and from Anakin's point of view, that makes him _very_ responsible, especially considering how persuasive the twins can be when it comes to wiggling their way out of things they don't like. "You're responsible so I don't have to be, remember?" he adds as he curls up on his own tunic. Like Obi-Wan, he rolls over on his side, positioning himself so that their backs are to each other, barely touching. It's an instinctive movement—if anyone comes in, they won't be as vulnerable, and they'll also be close enough for one of them to wake the other with a quick shove. "Besides, I'm not your padawan anymore—that means you're allowed to tell those stories."

"Thank the Force you're not still my padawan. You're much more agreeable now."

"You don't mean that." Actually, Obi-Wan probably does. Anakin wouldn't blame him, either. He will freely admit—at least to himself—that he was a bit of a handful as a teenager.

"Anakin, when you were still my padawan, if you had spent half as much time listening to me as you did arguing with me, you would have been a master by the time you were twenty."

"Oh? Your advice was just that good, hmm?"

"Stop being a brat. Let me sleep."

"Sorry, Master. Sometimes I forget just how old you are. You're even going gray. And don't say it's because of me—that would be cliche."

"It would also be _true_..."

"You're grumpy when you haven't gotten enough sleep."

He's hardly surprised when Obi-Wan snaps his leg back and kicks him in the thigh. It's not hard enough to hurt, and all it really serves to do is leave him grinning. Heckling Obi-Wan—at least when it's in fun—always seems to have that effect, and Obi-Wan probably understands that, because he lets it continue. Anakin even suspects he enjoys it just as much. For him, it is probably exactly what it is for Anakin: a way to relieve stress and take his mind off the coming situation.

"Fine, Master. I'll leave you alone. Wouldn't want you to be cranky with _Sidious_—"

"Anakin, I know you rather enjoy the sound of your own voice—"

He laughs and pushes his shoulder back into Obi-Wan's, playfully jostling him a little before he finally does begin to seriously settle down against the tunic he's using for a pillow, trying to get as comfortable as circumstances will allow. He _is_ tired, but there's something about the silence that scares him. He doesn't want to think about what's going to happen. He doesn't want to consider that he might never see his children again. He doesn't want to think about how he and Obi-Wan maybe very well die.

"If I die, you'll take care of Luke and Leia, right?"

The sudden gravity of his tone—the shift from play to seriousness—silences whatever Obi-Wan was about to say. When he does reply, there's no jest in his voice. "Of course. You know that."

"I did, but I wanted to hear you say it." He pauses for a moment, turning the next question over in his mind, knowing that, as painful as the eventuality is, he will have to say it. If he doesn't, he'll never sleep, though that is truthfully the least of his worries. "And if I turn, and you're still alive, you'll take them away, won't you? Please just promise me you won't let me hurt them." It's easier to say this with his back to Obi-Wan, and maybe Obi-Wan knows that, because he makes no move to turn to face Anakin.

"You're not going to turn—"

He clenches his fists until he can feel the gears in his mechanical hand grind at the unnecessary pressure. "If I _do_, just _promise_ me!"

Silence. Then, softly, "I promise."

"And if I turn, and you get the opportunity, please, Obi-Wan, please promise that you'll kill me. If you've ever loved me at all, please don't let me live like that."

There's another pause, longer this time. As the seconds stretch by, Anakin begins to think that maybe Obi-Wan isn't going to answer at all. Maybe he just won't give an answer, though that would really be an answer in itself, and then he'll be left wondering, knowing how much damage he can do— "I promise, Anakin."

Anakin feels his breath catch.

Obi-Wan_ promised_. He did. As unbelievable as it might seem, he _did_ just make that promise.

Anakin has faith he'll keep it.

Oddly, there couldn't possibly be anything more comforting.

"Thank you." He means it with ever fiber of his being. He wouldn't want to live life as a Sith, because he's felt the loneliness and the mind-numbing anger that brought his world to a standstill. Living like that—he wouldn't want it, and to have Obi-Wan give him an out is something... securing. It's perfect. Everything about it is, right down the way it lets Anakin knows just how much Obi-Wan cares, because to end his life—Anakin knows what that would do to Obi-Wan. Nothing less than love could make him do it. "And... I love you too, you know."

Obi-Wan affectionately bumps him back lightly with his shoulder. "Then let me sleep," he says, a smile in his voice.

And Anakin does. He leaves Obi-Wan alone to take what could be his last nap, and if he moves a little bit closer to his former master while he's sleeping, well, no one needs to know. They don't need to know that he's scared of what's about to happen, and more than anything, of _himself_.

Most importantly, no one needs to know that his main comfort comes from the understanding that, should the unthinkable happen, Obi-Wan will kill him.

It's not a desire for death. He's not suicidal. He simply knows that the dark side is something worse than death.

"Thank you," he murmurs one more time once he's sure Obi-Wan is asleep, feeling suddenly like a nine-year-old padawan as he takes comfort in the warmth and proximity of Obi-Wan's body. Right now, it doesn't matter to him that he's far past the age where he should need a parent-figure's physical comfort. He's twenty-seven and perfectly capable of taking care of himself... but there's still something reassuring about seeking refuge from the person whose job was once to provide it. Obi-Wan is his parent in every way that counts, and sometimes—_right now_—he simply needs to still have him there, acting in that capacity, even though logically Anakin is as capable now of saving Obi-Wan's life as Obi-Wan is of saving Anakin's. This need of his—he'll acknowledge that it's not logical, but he hardly thinks it matters, and he would challenge most grown beings not to want the comfort of a parent at some point in their grown life. Just someone to make everything all right... or to give the impression that it is, even if it is not. He wants that. He does. And Obi-Wan's presence gives that. It doesn't matter how or why.

Taking a deep breath, Anakin closes his eyes and listens to Obi-Wan breathe. All that matters to him right now is the knowledge that, once Sidious sends for them, he's not going to have anyone else's comfort anymore. He's going to be on his own.

That battle is going to be his alone, and Obi-Wan can't help him fight it.

Truly, how could anyone fault him for taking comfort while he still can?


	23. Part 2: Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** Am I going to get sued if I stop repeating that I DON'T OWN ANYTHING?

**Author's Note: **

Anakin T Skywalker: Judging from other reviews, I don't think anyone else has forgiven Yoda, either.

Dawn of Time: Yellow lightsaber with gold stripes, huh? I might have to hold out just to see that. :)

Yippie: If they get off the ship alive, I'm sure Yoda and Obi-Wan will have a talk. I can't very well answer your question without giving major plot points away, though. :)

jedigal125: Hopefully your friend doesn't turn to the dark side. :)

jesssica46: Thank you SO much! I really appreciate your feedback and willingness to spend hours reading this. That's… pretty amazing.

jmeec316: Anakin's got the potential—now he's just got to realize it.

SpiritedEstel: Pity that you don't have those blueprints—I could quite enjoy that. :) And, I agree—I wish Lucas had done a little more "show" and a bit less "tell". Anakin and Obi-Wan obviously _were_ close, but you never got to see why or how. Obi-Wan is my favorite character, too, but I can't decide whether he or Anakin is more complex. They've both got a lot of issues (Anakin being one of Obi-Wan's main ones, I think).

Jedi Angel001: He's going to have to draw strength from some interesting places.

Hazelcloud: I'm glad to hear you say that. Character growth is my main focus.

Darth Zexar: Haha, Yoda on the dark side! Someone needs to write that! And I'll definitely check out your stories when I have the chance. I'm back in school right now, though, so it might be awhile—I'm having all I can do to just keep up with posting this story.

pronker: Yay! I love that someone remembered poor Bail, all alone and flying away from years of imprisonment. The poor guy needs a hug… or at least a little recognition. :)

ObiBettina7: Agreed. The audience could all see that Obi-Wan cared, but Anakin didn't know just how much. He didn't get that "I have trained you since you were a small boy and am proud of you" equaled something along the lines of "I raised you and love you." Anakin just never got that Obi-Wan wasn't raised to talk about the things he felt.

Earthwhisper: Ah, that's a very good question… and I can't tell you, since it's pretty vital to the story. :) But she is still around, promise.

**Feedback:** Yes, please.

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A light shove to his back startles Obi-Wan out of sleep with surprising effectiveness. Ordinarily, he wouldn't need the help—the Force would have alerted him to danger far before now. If he was in his normal state, he would have probably known there was a danger before the door even opened. Instead, he's left with nothing. There's an absence where the Force should be. Just a deafening silence.

Knowing that the shove came from Anakin, who is still able to sense things though the Force, Obi-Wan rolls over and sits up, schooling his face into something as close to impassivity as he can get. The clones won't care whether he shows emotion or not, but he's been trained all his life not to give his captors the advantage of seeing what he's thinking.

Together, he and Anakin climb to their feet, saying nothing as they allow the clones to bind their hands behind their backs before they're shoved out of the cell and into the relative dimness of the corridor. Truthfully, there's nothing more to say. They've said what they needed to back when they talked in the cell—now, their attention has shifted to the prospect of what they're about to face.

_Live in the moment_ Qui-Gon would have said. Do not anticipate what is to come. It will only hinder you.

As he walks among the escort of clones—ten, by his count—he finds himself thinking that he may have been right. Considering what Sidious may do is only unsettling him. Will it hurt? Will it kill him? Will Anakin be hurt? What, exactly, is going to happen?

Taking a deep breath, he makes himself clear his mind.

He will take the events as they come.

Wherever they're going, it's a relatively short distance from their cell. A few more hallways, an elevator, and a little more walking brings them to a halt outside of a large black door. Black. Everything is _always_ black here, and Obi-Wan finds that a bit heavy handed. He's aware that the Sith are evil—driving it home with their choice of interior decorating really just seems tedious. Perhaps he'll mention that to Sidious at some point. It will likely anger him, but he does remember telling Anakin that whatever Sidious chooses to will probably hurt quite a lot anyway. At least he'll have the satisfaction of being an irritant right up to the end.

"You promised, remember," Anakin says, ducking his head to the side and catching Obi-Wan's eyes just as the door begins to open. "If I turn, you promised…"

"I did," he agrees. "But if you have ever cared for_ me_ at all, you won't make me have to keep my word."

Slowly, very deliberately, Anakin nods.

They step through the door together.

--------------------------------

Anakin nearly laughs when he sees Sidious sitting on a chair that's an ugly cross between a throne and a bureaucrat's chair. The man may have a lot of power, but a throne is just presumptuous. It would be silly if it wasn't slightly intimidating.

Even Anakin can't deny that everything about the room does, to some degree, make him a bit uncomfortable. The way it's designed with that chair in front of the large window looking out onto space—it makes it seem like Sidious owns it all. It gives the impression that he's unstopable, and all the black metal and harsh materials only increase that feeling.

Sidious himself looks just like he did when Anakin last saw him. Old. Wizened. Ugly. Decidedly evil.

"You haven't aged a bit," he says by way of greeting, mentally noting that it's not a lie. Sidious hasn't aged—he looks exactly as he did five years ago: as though he's just rolled out of the grave. While he takes in Sidious's appearance, he gives a nod of mocking thanks to the clone troopers as Sidious dismisses them with a wave of his hand. Predictably, they don't respond to Anakin, but only busy themselves with their exit. They have their commands, and they follow them… kind of like when they killed their Jedi Generals.

It's impossible to tell what Sidious's reaction is—his face is entirely hidden by the shadow of his hood. "Lord Vader." There's pleasure—smug satisfaction—in his voice. Anakin hates that voice, as gravelly and grating as it is. It's evil personified. Was that what he was on his way to becoming? Hopefully, he wouldn't have been _this_ ugly. Even droids look better than this.

"I go by Skywalker these days, thank you."

Obi-Wan shifts on his feet beside him. Anakin can feel him measuring the situation and sizing everything up for any tactical advantage he can gain. That's one of Obi-Wan's strengths, and while Anakin appreciates it, he has a niggling suspicion that this battle won't be won by the clever tactics Obi-Wan became so renowned for.

This is a battle that's going to be won or lost in the hearts and minds of the people fighting it.

Sidious chuckles. "You deny your true nature, then?"

"No, Sidious, I deny _your_ nature."

Finally, Sidious lets his hood drop, just as he stands up from his chair. There's nothing imposing about his physical stature, but he reeks of the dark side, and Anakin can practically feel the power radiating from him. As much as he detests this man, he cannot deny his power, nor will he make the mistake of underestimating him.

"You will find that you're quite mistaken, my young apprentice."

"I'm sorry—did I not make things clear enough when I renounced you the first time? I am _not_ your apprentice."

Amusement glitters in Sidious's malevolent sulfur-colored eyes. "No? You err, I'm afraid. Even now, your fear drives you. You fear falling. But, you must know, you are already lost. Tainted. Even Yoda—the greatest of the pathetic Order you now claim loyalty to—has uttered the truth: once you start down the dark path, forever will it control your destiny."

Anakin already knows Yoda doesn't believe in him. It's not like _that's_ a surprise. A revelation like that can't be the best that Sidious has got. "Yoda's wrong."

"Because you say he is?" Sidious counters, the graying flesh at the corners of his mouth quirking upwards like the wriggling of a disgustingly fat maggot.

"Because I _know_ he is. I know who I am, and I know what I follow. I am Anakin Skywalker, and I serve the light."

The Force in the room draws in tightly around Sidious as he raises a hand, his fingers pausing briefly in the air, twitching slightly. Then, without any real warning, the binders on Anakin's wrists pop open.

Obi-Wan's, he notices, stay on.

"You won't need those."

That, at least, _is_ a surprise.

Unwilling to show just how off-guard that caught him, Anakin draws himself up to full height and takes a deep breath. "I'm powerful enough to kill you, you know."

Sidious looks unmoved. If anything, a spark of delight seems to dance in his eye. "Yes, perhaps. But you are unarmed, my apprentice." A flash of movement, and then Sidious draws his lightsaber, igniting it and casting the area around him in a sickly red glow. "There is so much that you don't understand, Lord Vader. You have blinded yourself to the_ true_ nature of power."

"I understand that I don't want the kind of power you have. It's nothing but destruction and misery."

"Oh, but you are _wrong_. What I have," he murmurs, inhaling deeply and closing his eyes as he pulls the Force in around him until it swirls about him with its oily dark presence, "is so much more. The light is weak. The dark—the dark gives _strength_. Allow me to teach you the true nature of it."

"You'll show me nothing. I severed whatever bond we began that night in your office. I am _not_ Darth Vader, and there is nothing you can show me that I want to see."

Slowly, Sidious allows the Force to ebb around him, settling in and swirling, moving in the same manner as lightly disturbed water. "You are correct. I have no mental link with you. But, I do not particularly view that as a detriment. There are… other conduits that I may use."

Crossing his arms, Anakin waits for Sidious to show his hand. There's no sense in speculating.

"The Force, as you know, my apprentice, is the greatest asset of both the Jedi and the Sith. Without it, we are only a shadow of ourselves. Mere men. And our minds, interestingly enough, become far easier to breech."

Beside him, Anakin feels Obi-Wan tense. That's strange. Sidious is disturbing, yes, but nothing he's said so far is particularly alarming... is it? Unless... unless he's missed something.

"You will also find, young Vader, that existing connections can be exploited."

"Anakin," Obi-Wan says sharply from beside him, urgency painting his words. In a quick turn of motion, he spins to face Anakin, locking their gazes together. "Anakin—"

"I may be unable to access your mind directly," Sidious continues, his smile widening, "but I assure you, there _are_ ways."

"Anakin, cut off our mental link—"

What? Why? "Master, what—?" The blunt desperation in Obi-Wan's eyes is frightening and entirely confusing. What's he saying? Suppress the bond between them that has existed—as it does between all masters and padawans—since Obi-Wan took him as his apprentice? Why? He can't feel it, anyway—not now that Obi-Wan has been cut off from the Force.

"Anakin, DO IT!"

Clumsily—confusion makes him slow—he reaches to try and realizes, just as he touches the dormant link, that he is too late. Obi-Wan realized what Anakin has failed to, but his warning wasn't sufficient.

He screams in pain as his vision blurs and a terrible fullness seems to expand within his skull. His vision blurs and he sinks to his knees, hands clutching his head so hard that his nails draw blood as he fights for control. "Obi-Wan—Obi-Wan, shut it _off_—Master, _please_ you're hurting—stop—hurts—"

Vaguely, he registers that Obi-Wan is in an even worse state than he is. Sometime during the moments that it took for Anakin to control the pain enough to stop the vertigo and regain at least a blurred concept of vision, Obi-Wan has ended up halfway on his back, gasping for breath. He's still, with the exception of his hands, which clench and unclench as he struggles for control. He says nothing audibly, but his lips are moving, forming words that Anakin can't begin to make out. Occasionally, his back arches, pushing him up off the floor and disturbing his otherwise motionless pose. Whatever is happening to him, he's fighting it, though it does not appear that he's enjoying a great deal of success.

And then Anakin can make nothing out.

Nothing except what Sidious wants him to see.

_If you were half the teacher that your *own* master was, I would have succeeded!"_

Obi-Wan jerks back as though Anakin has physically slapped him. Immediately, something in his eyes closes off. "You cannot blame your failures on me, Anakin," he says quietly, the hurt disappearing as quickly as it came, leaving only perfect composure in its wake.

"Qui-Gon would have taught me better!" He *wants* to hurt Obi-Wan, and he knows he's succeeding. Good. He wants him to hurt as much as *he* hurt when Ferus Olin bested him in front of a room of other thirteen-year-old padawans.

The sadness in Obi-Wan's eyes is undeniable. "No matter how much you wish it, Anakin, I am *not* Qui-Gon Jinn."

//////////////////////

"I don't care about my kriffing classes!" he shouts, grabbing the failed test out of Obi-Wan's hands. Furiously, because he can't think of anything else to do, he clutches the edges of the paper and tears it down the middle, then again sideways, before throwing them aside and watching them flutter meaninglessly to the floor.

"Language, padawan," Obi-Wan reminds him, running a hand tiredly through his hair. "And yelling will hardly help. Perhaps, if you'd put that much energy into studying—"

"Oh, just shut up!"

He knows he's gone too far when Obi-Wan's face closes off and his eyes harden. He hates the way that, just underneath that calm, he can almost see the cool fire in Obi-Wan's gaze. That expression is far more unsettling than any amount of yelling that he's seen other masters do.

A feeling of distinct unease settles in his gut, but he refuses to acknowledge it—he would rather undergo any number of unthinkable horrors than admit that Obi-Wan can have this effect on him.

"You will not speak to me in that manner, padawan," he murmurs. There's no hint of a shout in his voice—if anything, his tone has dropped, forcing Anakin to listen. "I will not tolerate disrespect." So cool—icy—but there's certainly no room for argument.

So Anakin will not argue.

He will simply act.

Furiously, he lashes out, not really intending to hit his master, but more to push him to the side as he brushes by. He wants to send a message as he beats a hasty retreat—because in the face of Obi-Wan's icy cold anger, he'd much rather run, though he's determined to do it in a way that allows him to salvage a little of his dignity. He can't stand for Obi-Wan to think he has that much control, even if he really does.

His blow never makes contact. Instead, he finds his wrist caught in a firm grip, his face inches from Obi-Wan's own. "Never," Obi-Wan says slowly, his voice deadly low, his eyes snapping with carefully controlled anger, "do that again."

Anakin swallows hard, feeling shame beginning to burn his cheeks.

When Obi-Wan releases him and walks out of their quarters entirely, he knows he's gone too far.

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

"TELL ME WHAT I WANT TO KNOW!"

The man squirms in his grip, but Anakin tightens his hold to the point where the man's arm is about to snap. He'll break it if he has to. He needs this information.

"I—two streets down. Second door on the right," the man gasps. "You'll find him there."

Yes, he'd better. He and Obi-Wan need this information. Most missions, he wouldn't be quite so determined, but this is personal. The man they're after is a slaver, and he's dealt on Tatooine. This man *will* be brought to justice, and sniveling *sleemos* like this one aren't going to stand in his way.

He'll get the information he needs. He just won't tell Obi-Wan exactly *what* he did to get it.

A hard blow with the butt of his lightsaber hilt, and the man is out cold. Carefully, Anakin ties him up, not taking much care to make sure the ropes are loose enough. Comfort isn't his first priority for someone who deals in flesh.

And if he bent the rules and twisted his ethics just a bit to find out what he wanted to know, well, no one has to know...

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

War is not pretty. War is dead bodies, strewn across the ground, littering the landscape. War is carnage, and the smell of decaying flesh. War is everything he doesn't want to think he is, but that he's beginning to believe he might be.

When his blade slices through droid after droid, and when he steps over fallen clone troopers, he feels as though he's in his element. He was born to kill, and he does it well. He takes life, and there is no remorse until after the battle... and then, sometimes, the adrenaline of killing lingers, driving away the guilt.

He fears the day when he ceases to feel guilt altogether.

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

Anakin hates the baby sometimes. Most of the time, he loves it—cannot wait for it to arrive—but now, as he lays in bed, his hand gently curving to the bulge of Padme's stomach, he finds that he hates it, just a little.

The baby could kill his Padme.

How easy would it be, just to take his lightsaber and slice the baby out? Padme would live, as long as he avoided any major arteries and got her to a medicenter straight away. She would *live*, and isn't that what's important? He never *asked* for this extra life, after all.

But, no. *No*. He loves the baby, he thinks, jerking back, suddenly sick at his own thoughts. He loves it, and he would never do something like that. This is just his exhaustion and nerves making him think strangely. He would never hurt the people he loves.

He falls asleep, guilt flowing through him.

He won't allow himself to think these thoughts anymore.

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

Padme's eyes are full of fear, but he doesn't see them. All he sees is Obi-Wan in the background, and his beautiful, beautiful, *traitorous* wife, who has *betrayed* him. How could she? After all he gave her, and did for her—this is *all* for her.

And then there's just his anger.

All anger.

He will kill her with his anger, if that is what it takes.

The thing he loves most, he will kill, because he *can*.

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

He watches surprise explode over Obi-Wan's face, closely followed by the sharper expression of pain. It's almost beautiful how he falls to the dark sands, gasping for breath and fighting to keep from writhing in agony. Anakin knows he thinks he's going to die, and something in him settles in satisfaction at that knowledge.

Finally, he has the power he's always wanted over his master.

To hold someone's life in his hands is a wonderful, intoxicating thing.

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

There is shock in Padme's eyes as he throws her backward, sending her crashing to the floor. He hates himself for doing it, but she is *his* wife, and he can no longer stand the way she's been treating him. She *will* accept him. She *will*. He will make her, even if he ends up hating himself for doing it.

He will have what he wants.

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

What he's doing to Obi-Wan and Padme is slowly dulling the bright life that he always admired in both of them. They're surviving, not living, and they're forced into that because of *him*. If they would both just accept what he's telling them, they wouldn't have to live this way... and they *will* accept it, even if he has to keep this up until they both break.

_He *will* break them, if that's what it takes.  
_  
_\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\_

This darkness that he feels within him—it's overwhelming. It's raw and potent, and he knows it can kill and destroy. The nature of it is all-consuming, and to guide something so forceful is... fantastic. He is one with the dark. He *is* the dark.

This is power.

Anakin comes back to reality, shaking as he lays on his back, the icy cold of the metal floor seeping into him. There's a gaping hole inside of him, and as he lies there, he can almost feel himself being swallowed from the inside out.

All of that came from him. The memories, and the last bit—just a feeling he had once in a dream, back when he was still Vader. It's all in the past, but it is all _his_. No one made him feel those emotions. He has done all of those things voluntarily.

Sidious hovers a few feet from his side.

"And you say you are not of the dark side?" he asks almost contemptuously.

Anakin squeezes his eyes shut and slows his breathing. In. Out. In. Out. He will not give in. He is more than this. Those memories—they are not who he is anymore. "No."

Sidious laughs, the sound one of pure skepticism. "I can feel the uncertainty in you, boy. Your memories show you that the dark side was within you all along."

A sound from out of Anakin's line of sight catches his attention. Obi-Wan. What did Sidious do to Obi-Wan?

"Master?" he chokes out, rolling onto his side.

Obi-Wan is lying a few feet away from him, and as soon as Anakin sees him, he knows that his master is struggling against whatever Sidious did. "It's not true, Ani," he murmurs, pushing himself to his hands and knees. A tiny little gasp of surprise bursts out of him, and he slips down, letting his head sink between his hands.

"Obi-Wan?"

"Just... m'head."

Of course. Sidious used Obi-Wan's link to penetrate Anakin's mind—the majority of the stress from the connection would have been on Obi-Wan, and the link was undoubtedly pressured further from Obi-Wan's violent refusal to cooperate. He's lucky his mind is still even intact.

"He knows the truth, Lord Vader. He knows the darkness that lies within you. I would almost even venture to say that he knows it better than nearly anyone. He certainly took the brunt of much of it, did he not?"

Anakin would like to spit, just to rid himself of the terrible taste which seems to have settled in his mouth. "To be of the dark is a choice. And I choose not to be."

"To accept it is a choice you have already made," Sidious counters, slowly beginning to circle around Anakin. Every step is slow and deliberate, and the intensity of his gaze is unsettling. "Kenobi knows it, even as he denies it. He has felt it. Your _wife_ felt it—"

"Leave her out of his!" The mention of Padme is like a rush of adrenaline—maybe quite literally—and with it he finds the strength to push himself to his feet. The dizziness that the memories induced lingers, but the mention of Padme is enough to give him strength.

Even now, she gives him strength.

"You deny that she is the center of much of this?" he asks, his lips curling into a grotesque imitation of a sympathetic smile. "Why, Lord Vader, she is what gave you the delightful fear which allowed you to turn in the first place." Pausing, he moves a few inches closer. "Surely you must see that you are lost. Embrace that. Why not embrace your weakness and turn it into your greatest strength?"

"You _killed_ my wife! Those memories—what I did to her—it was because of _you_!"

"Yes, your memories," he agrees, his yellow eyes smoldering with satisfaction. "Yes. They show you how you hurt her. They prove—"

"They prove NOTHING! I never meant to hurt her. I _loved_ her!"

He can feel himself losing control. He shouldn't—it will be his undoing, but the image of Padme, lying on the bed—still in _death_—is more than he can handle. This man did that. This man shattered his relationship with the person he loved most in the world.

"You hurt those you love the most. Your memories tell you so. Really, my apprentice, you would do well to kill Kenobi now. It would be kinder than what you did before."

"And finish what you tried to start?" he rages, barely glancing over at where Obi-Wan has finally successfully worked his way into a sitting position. His hand is still to his head, indicating pain, but he looks a little better. "You tried to kill him, and Padme too!"

"Your wife, I am sorry to say, was simply caught in the cross-fire. Perhaps if Kenobi," he begins, spitting the name out like a curse, "had possessed the sense to not fight back, she would have survived. She died protecting him. Was it a good trade, my young apprentice?"

It's not true. Sidious ordered the attack. He's seen the pattern of blasts. They would have killed them both—both Padme_ and_ Obi-Wan. He knows that, but just the very mention that she _might_ still be alive if things had been done differently...

He casts a look over at Obi-Wan.

_Was_ it a good trade?

His wife for Obi-Wan?

Was it even a trade at all? Or was he simply lucky that _either_ of them survived? He's never thought about it like that, and the subject makes him feel ill, because, ultimately, he knows it doesn't matter. What matters is that he put them both in that position.

Padme's death and Obi-Wan's pain were all because of him.

"Don't you _dare_ try to turn things around like that!" he snaps, catching Sidious's terrible gaze and holding it. "When I put a lightsaber in my master's back or when I threw my wife across a room, it was because of _me_, and the decisions that_ I_ made... decisions that I made because I was foolish enough to listen to _you_—"

Something predatory flashes across Sidious's face. "And was it I who physically harmed the woman you claimed to love? No. That was _you_, Lord Vader. It was all you. It has always _been_ you, no matter how much you have tried to deny it."

"Anakin."

Obi-Wan's grunted exclamation catches his attention, and he snaps his gaze over to his former master. Their gazes meet, and Anakin watches desperation flicker there, barely visible over the pain that's still pinching Obi-Wan's face.

"Stop. Don' tell him... what you saw. He doesn'... know..." The words are an effort; beads of sweat are forming on Obi-Wan's forehead, and his eyes are shut tight against the pain.

Anakin fears his work is for nothing. He doesn't understand what Obi-Wan is trying to tell him.

But Sidious must—he pulls his hand back, just as Obi-Wan chokes out, "He... didn' see your mem'ries—"

A powerful force push slams Obi-Wan back into the wall. He slumps down it, landing at the bottom, unconscious. Apparently unmoved, Sidious nods at the two guards in the doorway. "Take him back to his cell."

Too late.

It's enough.

"You didn't see my memories," he begins quietly, watching as the guards drag Obi-Wan out. He would like to help him, but he's unarmed, and for the time being Obi-Wan might actually be safer out of the way. "You used Obi-Wan's mind to access mine, because while I'd pulled my shields up against you, I hadn't shielded tightly against Obi-Wan. And Obi-Wan, while his memories and knowledge were locked down tight—our bond was open to you, because he wasn't shielding from me. He wasn't shielding our bond. And I hadn't erected shields to stop anyone from penetrating my mind through him."

The lines of Sidious's face harden, and the clenching of his jaw is visible even under all the layers of wrinkled gray skin.

"But you didn't see my memories. Obi-Wan probably did, but he's right—_you_ didn't, because we were both shielding from you. All you were able to do is flood the bond with darkness so that anything I saw would be something I didn't want to. But you don't know what I saw. You don't know any of it."

"I know that Kenobi is a fool," Sidious snaps, all but seething with rage. It's under control, but Anakin has the feeling that such restraint is about to snap—and when it does, he knows there will be no going back. Sidious is powerful, and whatever happens next will be as large as the scope of his power. Anakin can't deny that such a scope is very large.

But maybe, finally, he is also learning that there are other ways to defeat an opponent than by power alone.

"You were going to try and keep me talking until you gleaned the information you needed—until you twisted what was in my own mind and made me think that I'd always been tainted. But you've failed, _your heighness_," he says, the title more of an insult than anything. "You can't manipulate me anymore—not like you did with my fears for Padme."

Sidious knows his plan has fallen flat—Anakin can see it in the way he raises his head in a gesture so full of pride as he begins to regroup, planning anew. How badly Anakin wants to make that pride the weapon which brings Sidious down. So much, he wants to see Sidious _fall_.

"And Kenobi? Who says manipulation is necessary? If I bring him here and have him tortured in front of you, will you still cling so strongly to the light?"

He will. Obi-Wan would never forgive him if he took any other course of action. In all actuality, Obi-Wan would rather die. It will probably also kill Anakin if he has to watch that happen, but he won't turn. He won't spit on everything Obi-Wan has done for him. He won't desecrate Padme's memory. He. Will. Not. Turn. "Yes."

"Even if, should you use the dark side, you would have a hope of saving him?"

"I will not turn," he repeats, raising his chin defiantly.

Sidious's eyes narrow. "We will see."


	24. Part 2: Chapter 11

Held between two guards, Obi-Wan stumbles out of the throne room, working to keep himself on his feet. He _will _walk on his own. He doesn't want to be dragged. That's entirely uncivilized. Left, right, left, right, walk, walk, walk... He's been doing this for years. If his head would just stop pounding, he'd feel better, and putting one foot in front of the other wouldn't seem quite so much of a challenge.  

Truthfully, the pain _is_ lessening. Considering that he was just used as a conduit for the dark side, his recovery time is really very astonishing. He's only half-way down the corridor leading away from the Emperor's throne room, and already he's feeling a bit better. At the very least, he's fairly certain his head is no longer going to split in two.    

That is, until someone hits him from behind, slamming him down into the floor.   

Inertia carries his body forward, and he only just manages to get his hands under him, preventing his head from smashing into the ground. That would have been fantastic. As if his head isn't hurting enough already.   

Groaning at the impact on his bound hands--there will be spectacular bruises, he's sure—he rolls onto his side...   

...and finds that his escorts are unconscious beside him.   

"I don't have all day, Kenobi," a regrettably familiar voice announces from behind him.   

"Ventress."   

She rolls her eyes as he turns over onto his back to face her. "Well spotted."  

"I pride myself on my observations skills."

Ventress is really the last person he expected to rescue him, and, yet, here she is, standing over him looking supremely satisfied, and perhaps somewhat hurried as well.   

"Yes, well, then perhaps you've noticed that we're still on board the monstrosity that is so aptly named the _Death Star_."   

He takes a deep breath to clear the pain in his head and rolls into a sitting position. "I'm rather sure I realized that at some point."    

The snap-hiss of a lightsaber igniting takes him by surprise. When he looks up, he notes that Ventress's weapon is no longer double-bladed, and is now green. Apparently, she decided that red no longer fit her outlook on life. Interesting. Both the change of color and change of principles, actually.   

"For these, I presume?" he asks, holding out his still-bound hands. It's either that or she's fixing to decapitate him, but if that were the case, she probably wouldn't have bothered to rescue him from the guards first.   

She answers by cutting through his cuffs, force-suppressers and all. He almost gasps with relief when he feels the Force flood through him.   

"Thank you."   

"_Now_ can you get moving?" she asks impatiently, clipping her weapon back at her side.    

All sarcasm aside, he knows she's right. If he doesn't arrive at his designated destination soon, he'll be missed, which will be reported to Sidious. Additionally, there's Anakin to think about. "We have to go back for Anakin."   

The way she raises her chin, just slightly, and stares down at him, her eyes almost understanding, catches him off-guard. There's something almost soft about her gaze, though it's underscored by an element so full of strength that he's a bit hesitant to describe it that way. Whatever it is, it's an emotion he's never seen on her before.   

"You're not going back for Anakin," she says. A pause, and then, "_I_ am."   

"And that's all well and good," he replies, finally pushing himself to his feet. With the help of the Force, the pain in his head has at least begun to recede, and that will have to be good enough for now. "But I'm going with you."   

"You're not. You're going back to the ship."   

"And leave Anakin to Sidious's tender mercies? I'm rather inclined to say 'no'."   

She shrugs and crosses her arms, always so belligerent and uncooperative, even now that they're on the same side. Technically, he outranks her and could order her to do as he says, but he doubts that letting her know that will really have any effect. In that respect, she is remarkably like Anakin.

"You can _say_ whatever you want. The point is that you're needed elsewhere."   

"Oh? And where might that be." Standing in the hallways arguing about this is madness, but he doesn't follow her line of thinking, and he's not willing to back down. She's crazy if she thinks he simply going to walk away and leave the man he raised and trained.   

"There's a very good chance that whomever walks back into that room could die, Kenobi." 

He nods. "I'm aware, thank you."   

"Skywalker may very well still die. If he does, where will that leave his two brats?"   

"You expect me to believe that you _care_ about what happens to Luke and Leia?" Ventress, though no longer of the dark, still isn't a compassionate creature. If she's offering to do this, she must have a reason that goes beyond the welfare of two children.   

"No. But _you_ do."   

"Of _course_ I do, but I also care for Anakin, and right now, of the three, he is the one in mortal danger, so if you don't mind, I would rather end this pointless debate right now and—"   

"Follow your orders to get off this station?"

His following glower has no effect whatsoever. "Look, Kenobi, Skywalker is unarmed. You're unarmed. We've got one weapon between the three of us. What good to you think you can do? By going back in there without any means of self-defense, you're basically handing yourself to Sidious as bargaining chip. All you're going to do is give Sidious another hold over Skywalker." 

"Oh, and so you plan to take on a Sith Lord in combat?"   

Something almost morbid flickers in her eyes, leaking out into her visage until her whole face is a little twisted, though by such a small degree that it's barely noticeable.    

And then, just like that, he understands.   

"You're not going to. You're going to give Anakin the lightsaber, aren't you?"    

"If your prophecy is true, he's the one who has to end this."   

Obi-Wan can feel the shock of that in every part of his body, from his fingers to his feet. Breathing suddenly seems to be more of chore than it was previously, even when he takes the headache into consideration.

"Sidious will kill you the moment you're unarmed."   

She nods, her face now strangely blank, almost resigned... but _sure_. Very sure. "Yes, he will."   

"Then _why_? You don't care for Anakin at all—I know this. Why would you give your life to save him? You could give me the lightsaber and let me deliver it."   

She shakes her head. "No."   

"It's a _suicide_ run. You know that."   

Another nod. "I _do_ know that."  

He can't believe what she's saying. At this point in his life, there's very little left that he would think could surprise him, but this—_this_ is rocking him to his core. This isn't the Ventress he knows, and he can't possibly fathom why she thinks this is the correct course of action. "Why would you do this?"    

"You told me on the trip here that not all of us have the luxury of having only one thing of value that we treasure above all others. The truth is that I didn't want you to have to choose between duty and what you love best."   

Yes. His duty is to go back for his detained partner. He is a Jedi. They do not abandon their own. But if he does, he will die. He knows this. He also knows that, if he acts on what he loves best, he will still go back for Anakin. It's a choice he will gladly make, but the idea of never seeing Luke and Leia again when he cares for them just as much is... shattering, especially with the knowledge that, even if he goes back to help Anakin, Anakin may still ultimately fail. In this case, the lines of duty and personal feelings are so entangled that he's not even sure where to start working to unravel them.   

"Why would you care?" he asks instead, unwilling to so easily believe that she would make this decision so much simpler for him.   

"Because," she explains, crossing her arms over her chest, "I admire you. You were a worthy opponent and an admirable ally, and I respect your conviction... and your refusal to believe I was irrevocably lost. If more Jedi were like you, this reign of terror may never have happened. In short, you gave me back my sanity; I will give you back your life. I almost think I got the better deal. Your life is awfully complicated."   

That's so like Ventress. No messy attachments, but only a strict sense of cold, hard emotion. He doubts there's anything soft left in her, but there _is_ still room for respect, and somehow, unbelievably, he seems to have garnered that. She is not attached to him—she would leave him to die if the mission depended on it—but she does appreciate what he did and admires him enough that she would rather die in his place, if given the choice.   

"I can't ask you to—"   

"You aren't. _I_ am _telling_ you that I'm going to do this. Go home to your children. I'll send the third one along shortly."   

She doesn't wait for affirmation. She isn't even asking _permission_. That's not her. She does what she wants—what she feels needs to be done.

"May the Force be with you," she says, giving him one last, small smirk before she turns and runs down the hallway. Scant seconds later, she's turned a corner and is gone. He knows it's the last he'll ever see of her.    

Taking a deep breath, he does the same and takes off running... in the opposite direction.    

Sometimes, certain sacrifices are too important to defile with pride.    

He will let her do this, and he will be thankful.   

-----------------------   

Obi-Wan steals a ship without any trouble. There's no heightened security—not with both him and Anakin supposedly still detained—but it still seems more than a little odd to only have to incapacitate a few clones in order to abscond with the ship. Ventress has apparently been successful with the Tractor Beam; he makes a clean escape, jumping to hyperspace without any obstruction.   

Yoda will have changed the location of their base—he'd be a fool not to. Knowing that, once he's a safe distance away, he puts in a call on a secure line. He doesn't make contact with Yoda, but he is greeted by Shaak Ti, who apparently also survived Order 66. He hadn't known she had. It's good to see her.   

Shortly thereafter, he inputs the new coordinates into the navi-computer and makes the jump to hyperspace. And then, finally, hours later, he reaches his destination.   

Dantooine is certainly a step up from Dagobah. Instead of swamps, this planet is characterized by grasslands, rivers, and lakes. At least the twins will be able to play outdoors. He'll need something for them to do as a distraction while they all wait for Anakin.   

Truthfully, he's trying not to think about Anakin, not when he knows that all it will do is leave him uneasy. There's nothing more he can do. He simply has to have faith that Anakin can overcome Sidious, both physically and mentally.   

Landing is as uneventful as takeoff was. It goes smoothly, and he settles the ship into the hanger. Interestingly enough, it's a large hanger—there are a good number of ships here. Apparently, he's been guided to a larger base. It doesn't escape his notice that it only happened once Anakin was no longer with him.   

Exiting his ship, he sweeps down the ramp and out into the hanger, ignoring the stares of the people around him. It comes as a shock to realize that he knows some of them—_many_ of them. A good deal are Jedi, and many others are members of the maintenance crews at the Temple. They hadn't been Jedi, but they were still caught in the crossfire of Order 66. It makes sense that they'd seek refuge among the people who were betrayed alongside of them.  

There's something to be said for camaraderie born out of trials.   

Later, he'll return and talk with some of them, but, for now, he's got two five-year-olds and a Jedi Master who are going to wish to speak with him. Catching up will have to wait.   

Yoda meets him just outside of the hanger bay. There's no trace of impatience on his face, but it couldn't be clearer that he's been waiting. For what, Obi-Wan isn't quite sure. To explain why he took the course of action that he did? Possibly. To apologize for it? Not likely.    

Yoda's ears rise slightly as he takes in Obi-Wan's appearance. "Regret the decision that I had to make, I do," he says evenly, his voice devoid of emotion.   

Obi-Wan isn't really sure he believes that. He's convinced _Yoda_ believes he regrets it, but someone like Yoda—someone who doesn't want to understand loyalty to the point of attachment—will have no real notion of exactly what he has done.    

"You knowingly sent one of our fellow Jedi to die, Master Yoda," he replies, forcing his voice to settle into a calm reminiscent of the lakes of Naboo on a clear day. It's a struggle to do so, but he will get nowhere with Yoda if he injects emotion into his argument. Though, quite honestly, he's not sure he'll get very far anyway.   

The lines of Yoda's face harden. "A fellow Jedi, young Skywalker is not. Renounced the ways of the Jedi, he did."   

Obi-Wan raises his chin, trying to suppress the stirrings of indignation that he feels on Anakin's behalf. "He is not a Sith."    

"A Sith he may not be, but a Jedi he still is not."   

"So we send him to die?" That's cruel. Inexcusably so.   

He can sense the frustration mounting in Yoda. "Made his own decisions, Skywalker did. If, to correct those decisions, his death is necessary, then _yes_, send him to die we must." In exclamation, he bangs his gimmer stick down adamantly. 

"I cannot condone that."   

"Because blinded by attachment you _are_!"   

Maybe he is, but he doesn't think he would be able to make that decision for any other Jedi, either. He was a general in the Clone Wars, and he was used to sending men into battle with the knowledge that they could die, but in those situations, they were always forewarned. They _knew_. He never deceived them.   

"He's not dead, you know."   

"Know this, I do. Feel his life in the Force, I can."   

"Then you must know what he's about to do."   

Yoda takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. "Face Sidious, Skywalker will."   

There's something in the way he's speaking that is worrisome. Yoda always speaks in riddles and roundabout displays, but this is more just a... feeling that Obi-Wan gets. There is something Yoda isn't saying. "What is it that you're not telling me?"   

Ever so slightly, Yoda's ears droop, and he takes another deep breath that moves his whole body. Whatever it is, he _is_ sorry, Obi-Wan is sure. He's also fairly certain that contrition won't be enough to satisfy him when he finds out what Yoda hasn't yet said. "The plans to the Death Star, we have recovered. Found a weakness, we have. Sending a force to destroy it, we are."  D_estroy_ it? _Now_?   

Obi-Wan feels himself go numb, shock radiating through his entire being. Destroy it. They're going to destroy it, and Yoda knows full well why that will upset him. "You're not going to give him the chance to get off?!"   

"Time, we cannot give him. To the Force, we must leave his fate."   

He has to fight to control the heat of anger that's rising in his chest. What they're doing—it's cold. He understands war. He understands necessary sacrifice, but he also understands the sanctity of life, and he knows that the _Death Star_ will be there whether Anakin defeats the Emperor or not. If Sidious hasn't corrected the _Death Star's_ weakness yet, then he will not correct it ten minutes after Anakin dies—_if_ he dies. Destroying it with Anakin still on board is an unnecessary precaution. It's needless. The residual dislike towards Anakin for his crimes is understandable, and Obi-Wan will be the first to say that he needs to face the consequences of his misdeeds, but for an Order that forbids revenge, this seems remarkably vindictive.   

"Leave his fate to the Force?" he snaps. "Or to _you_?"   

He doesn't want to talk about this anymore. Yoda will have already given the order—there is nothing he can do to stop it now. As the esteemed Jedi Master said, Anakin's fate is now to the Force.   

But Obi-Wan doesn't have to stand here and listen to the being who made that so.   

Taking a deep breath and releasing his anger to the Force, Obi-Wan turns on his heal and walks away.    

----------------------------   

Luke and Leia start crying when they first catch sight of him, tearing away from Breha Organa and rushing towards him. Breha has undoubtedly been a very fine caregiver, but they don't really know her. From the time they were taken to Tatooine up until they were left with Breha, they had never been in the care of anyone other than himself or Anakin.   

"Ben!" Leia cries out, latching onto his neck when he kneels down to catch her and Luke in his arms. He can feel her tears against his skin, and he breathes in the scent of her dark hair where it's pressed against his cheek. He nearly chokes on the relief that he feels. It's good to have the children back.   

Luke clings to him as well, fisting his hands in Obi-Wan's shirt and hanging on as though he never intends to let go. Knowing Luke—knowing how tenacious he can be—he probably doesn't. Obi-Wan isn't sure he wants him to. "Ben? Ben, where'd you go?" he sobs, tears and snot on his face, and _Force_, Obi-Wan needs a cloth to wipe his skin with. Five-year-olds are remarkably messy little creatures, and he's even missed _that_.   

"It doesn't matter," he answers, scooping them both up. "I'm back now."   

"And Daddy?" Leia asks, raising a hand to rub at his beard as though she's reminding herself what it feels like. "Where's Daddy?"    

Luke copies his sister and reaches out to grab a fistful of his hair. He doesn't tug, but only hangs on, his wide blue eyes never leaving Obi-Wan's face. There's something there in that gaze that breaks Obi-Wan heart. "He's not here, is he?" he asks softly, more tears rising.   

Setting the twins back down on the ground, Obi-Wan accepts the cloth that Breha, who has quietly walked up to his side, hands him and then kneels down in front of them. "I'm afraid not," he admits sadly, wiping the mess off of Luke's face, then off Leia's.   

Leia appears more confused than upset. "But he's coming, right? He'll be here soon?"   

He doesn't know how to explain. He doesn't even really want to. "I certainly hope so."    

"They're good children, Obi-Wan," Breha says from where she's standing beside him. "Beautiful children with good hearts. You've done an admirable job."   

"_Anakin_ has done an admirable job," he corrects sharply. Immediately, he feels sorry. None of this is her fault, and he doesn't need to take it out on her. "Breha, I'm sor—"   

She slowly shakes her head. "Don't be. That was honestly half of what I meant. By _you_, I meant the both of you."   

And, truly, that is the greatest compliment—the greatest _comfort_—that she could give. "Thank you."   

"He's good, you know, Obi-Wan. No one who had a hand in raising children like these could be otherwise."   

Luke and Leia have curled in against him again as he kneels in front of them, snuggling into his chest. They seem so small—so fragile—and suddenly he finds that he never wants to let them out of his sight again. He's tired of losing the people he cares for.   

He lets them cling as he continues to look Breha. "Do you honestly believe that?"   

"I do. And others, if they were willing to get to know these children, would begin to believe the same thing."  

"There are many people who are never going to forgive Anakin for what he did. I'm frankly surprised that you're not one of them."   

A sad little smile flickers on her face. "Yes, well, I have my husband back now. And maybe I never will _forgive_ Anakin, but I am not willing to be so blinded by my own pre-conceived notions that I miss seeing the beauty in things such as his children. And if the children have beauty, I have to admit that part of it came from him."   

He cannot make her forgive Anakin. Quite honestly, he can't blame her for what she's feeling. Sooner or later—most likely sooner—Anakin is going to have to face the social ramifications of what he did... and he's going to have to face far worse than Breha Organa.    

"Thank you for watching the children," he replies finally, standing up. The children still won't let go of him, and so he picks them up again, holding both while he gives her a simple nod. "You have my gratitude."   

"Thank you, Master Kenobi," she says with a smile.   

Now, he thinks as he turns away, he will go find out exactly where his quarters are, and then he'll find some sort of distraction for the children. Earlier, he considered taking them outside. That might be nice. Maybe they'll take a trip down to the river he thought he saw when he landed. Something. Anything.   

He just can't let them focus on Anakin.   

For now, none of them should.


	25. Part 2: Chapter 12

**Disclaimer:** Am I going to get sued if I stop repeating that I DON'T OWN ANYTHING?

**Author's Note: Sorry for the lack of review replies. I'm back in college, and just getting the chapters posted is pretty difficult. Hang with me, please!**

**Sorry for the problems with format and editing. I posted the version that I hadn't finished editing--just the wrong document. Sorry, it's fixed now!**

Anakin T Skywalker: In this case, Ventress is actually doing something good.

SpiritedEstel: I'm very much enjoying paternal Obi-Wan, too. The shot of him in ROTS with Luke just makes me melt every time.

mokakenobi: I can make no promises about Anakin, but then again I won't say I'm killing him, either. :) Thank you very much for the review, though—I appreciate it very much.

Dawn of Time: Using the speed of the Force, I bring you this update. :)

Hermione Solo: Yes, I do agree—they need their daddy.

pronker: Once again, I really appreciate the detail of your review. I always find your feedback useful to pick out what I'm doing well or need to improve on. In this case, I'm especially glad Ventress's characterization is working. It was tough to pass her off as an actual Jedi

ObiBettina7: Anakin is indeed known for his crazy stunts...

**Feedback:** Yes, please.

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For Anakin, everything comes down to this moment.

He will not turn. He _will not_. He won't allow himself to even think about the possibility. Failure is not an option until he starts considering it as one. So, he will not consider it.

But Sidious is, and Anakin fears that, eventually, he may too.

When the doors to the room slide open, Anakin doesn't turn around. He doesn't want to see Obi-Wan being hauled back in for another round of what he's sure is absolute agony. It may seem cruel not to look, but he knows his former master would understand... just as he will understand how Anakin will not turn, even if it means Obi-Wan's death.

He desperately hopes he has the strength to keep that conviction, because he knows that's what Obi-Wan would want.

Oddly, Sidious doesn't look quite as smug as Anakin would have thought. Instead, he looks almost..._ surprised_? Something's not right. "Guards," he snaps, his upper lip curling in an expression reeking of displeasure. "What is this?"

The sound of a lightsaber humming to life, followed by the noise of what Anakin has come to recognize during his time as Darth Vader as bodies falling the floor lets him know that, whoever this person is, it's _not_ Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan didn't have a lightsaber, and even if he did, he'd be more inclined to wound than kill.

Anakin turns around.

The figure in the doorway is shrouded in a dark cloak, their face partially obscured. The fine details don't matter—he can see the eyes, and that's all he needs.

"Ventress?" he breaths, hardly daring to believe it. "Get out of here. Go help Obi-Wan—"

She smiles, a dark sort of predatory look, as she shrugs off her cloak and lets it slip to the floor. "Kenobi," she murmurs smoothly, looking entirely too pleased, "is already off this ship and entering hyperspace as we speak."

In the Force, Anakin feels a wave of dark rage rush forth from Sidious, inundating every part of the room. For a moment, he feels as though he's drowning, reaching for the light, finding nothing and then finally—_finally_—connecting with it. The light is precious now that he knows what it's like to be without it.

"You _lie_," Sidious spits out furiously. Slowly, he begins to move across the room, the robes of his dark clothing barely brushing the floor as he walks, every step entirely deliberate. He reminds Anakin of a purii cat that's about to go in for the kill.

Ventress calmly arches an eyebrow and pulls her shoulders back a bit more. Anakin never before questioned her bravery—only her sanity—but any doubts that he might have had are banished before he can even begin to formulate them. She's looking at Sidious with zero fear. She's _not_ afraid.

"Then why are you so angry?" she asks, her tone curiously like a lover's, soft and lilting. Still, there's something hard there; there's strength behind everything that she does.

Obviously, she's _not_ lying. Sidious can feel it, and as Anakin begins to search, he realizes that he can feel it as well. Obi-Wan is gone.

Obi-Wan is gone, and Sidious is livid.

"You're going to regret this!" he rages, whipping back a hand and sending a wave of the Force hurtling towards her.

Ventress manages to block it, but she still staggers. Oddly, that only makes her smile widen. "I'm not here to fight you, Sidious. I _know_ I can't beat you, no matter how much I'd like to. Instead, I'll simply have to settle for helping the one who can."

With one last darkly-amused quirk of her lips, she tosses her lightsaber to Anakin.

"Do your worst," she quietly tells Sidious, laughing with her eyes. She's _daring_ him. One last taunt for a woman who never seemed to have anything else on her lips.

Sidious takes the challenge.

"Fool!"

Ventress never stood a chance without a lightsaber. Perhaps she never did even with one. Ultimately, it really doesn't matter: Sidious assaults her with Force-lighting. She never attempts to block. She simply takes it in the chest and falls, arching backward with surprising grace for the amount of pain she's in.

She hits the ground, and he attacks again. Anakin can see the energy snapping all over her body, and he _knows_ how much that hurts, but even as he jumps forward to defend her, he also knows that it's over. She wasn't trying to protect herself. She knew she couldn't beat Sidious, and whatever she wanted to accomplish, she's done it, and she's satisfied. Death holds not fear for her.

It's likely that she even welcomes it.

That, at least, Anakin can understand. She has no one. No one cares for her. In her life, she's lost everyone she loves. As alone as she is, he can understand why she really has no more reason to live, beyond her need for vengeance on the Empire. If he lost Obi-Wan and the twins, he's almost certain he'd be the same way. Living for himself would hold no appeal. _Living_ would hold no appeal.

Sometimes, even the loss of Padme is almost enough to make him wish he were dead.

Almost. He still has children who need him, and a friend to support him.

Still, he can sympathize.

"You thought I was done the first time," she manages to croak out as Anakin comes to stand over her. "Back when you and Kenobi found me on Boz Pity, you thought I was ready to die. I wasn't. I had more to do. But now—now I_ am_ ready."

"Why did you do it?"

The cocky smiles returns, though it's far weaker this time. "Ask Kenobi. He'll tell you."

"You're assuming I survive this?"

"You have to," she mutters, her eyes flickering closed. "I promised... I'd send you home. That's an order, Skywalker. Kill this son of a Hutt... and go home to... to the people who... love you."

He's seen death before. He held his _mother_ when she died, but no matter how much he sees, he knows he'll never get used to it. Never. The way the body goes limp, the life passing out of it—it's eerie and disturbingly beautiful, all at the same time.

The sound of Sidious's footsteps behind him brings him back to the task at hand. "That, my apprentice, is where weakness will get you."

He's so wrong. Everything about that statement is wrong.

"Ventress was many things," he mutters, slowly pivoting around, his boots squeaking on the durasteel floor, "many of which I didn't like, but she was never weak. And I'd say she ripped your plan apart pretty well, didn't she? Could someone _weak_ do that? Or are you just losing your touch?"

Ever so slightly, Sidious clenches his jaw. "Don't you see how weak the ones you love are, Lord Vader? Kenobi fled and _left_ you."

He laughs. "Do better. You're not going to make me doubt Obi-Wan. There's nothing about him that's cowardly, and if he left, you can bet he had a damn good tactical reason for doing so."

"Perhaps."

The lightsaber feels comfortingly heavy in his hand. Hopefully, keeping up his training with Obi-Wan on Tatooine will pay off. "We've done this once before, Sidious, remember? You used my feelings for people against me. My wife? Remember her? You didn't deliver on your promise to save her, did you? So why do you think I'll listen to you again?" Pausing, he lets the lightsaber slip down until it's in the grip he learned when he was little more than a youngling. "You won't turn me, Sidious. So give it up."

Sidious pauses, sneering. "There is still much darkness in you, Lord Vader."

"And there always will be. But I'm strong enough to overcome it. I _will not_ turn."

And finally, he sees the acceptance on Sidious's face. It's swept along by malice and hate, but the realization is there, fueling hatred as he's forced to admit that he's _failed_. The man he made Darth Vader is truly no more.

In his place, there is only Anakin Skywalker.

"If you will not turn, I will destroy you."

He clutches his lightsaber a little more tightly. Anticipation is coiling in his gut, mingling with the talent he knows he has. Once, he called that power; now, he recognizes that it is only what he uses it as. His natural abilities are only power if he thinks of them that way.

"You will _try_," he says quietly, remembering a very different situation where he used those words. Everything about Mustafar was wrong. He was entirely misguided, largely due in part to the man in front of him. On Mustafar, he fought the man who truly was his master. But this time... this time it's _right_. This man is not his master.

He's simply a monster.

"I will _succeed_!" he snarls, igniting his red blade.

Taking a deep breath, he raises his lightsaber. "Death would be better than the dark side. And I will _never_ turn."

"Then you will _die_ as Skywalker."

The first strike comes like a flash of red lightning, streaking down at him in a deadly arch. He catches Sidious's blade on his, pushing it aside, only to be met with another seconds later. Sidious's onslaught is fierce, but Anakin recognizes what he's doing—he's attempting to overwhelm and intimidate, but in his pride, Sidious has forgotten one thing.

Anakin Skywalker is not easily intimidated.

He is courageous to the point of being foolhardy.

He pushes the limits until he either succeeds or loses—nothing in between.

Anakin blacks every strike, disliking being on the defensive, but knowing that Sidious has had years to hone the technique he's using and that to attempt to beat him while he's in top form would be madness. No. He needs to wait. Sidious is an exceptional fighter, but even the best tire eventually.

Sidious aims a strike towards his legs, but he jumps it, countering with his own swing, which Sidious blocks high, thrusting aside. His style is largely aggressive, capitalizing on his power in the Force, but it's understated with finesse, and with a skill that Anakin has seldom—perhaps never—seen matched. Most likely, Sidious usually overpowers opponents in the early minutes of the duel, but in the case that he does not, he can catch them in his more subtle maneuvers as well. He's a superb, well-rounded fighter, who doesn't have many weaknesses.

Already, Anakin can tell that Sidious is not like Dooku. Dooku's fighting was more of a dance—it had a far more elegant quality to it. All his movements were precise, expending minimal energy. Sidious, though he's still controlled, fights with less obvious restraint—he's far more raw and harsh. He is, Anakin suspects, a master of all the styles, leaving him to pick and choose and ultimately merge his fighting into something all his own.

Dodging a quick thrust, Anakin ducks to the side, avoiding being backed into a corner. Quick on his feet, he slips a few feet to the right and attempts to cut down at Sidious's legs, but is stopped by a quick parry. Over and over their blades meet, catching on each other, forcing the other away, and always darting back in, looking for an opening. All it will take is one mistake. Only one.

Ducking back, Anakin takes a half second to settle himself. This isn't a battle he can win on pure, raw power. Sidious has more of that than he does. He has to find another advantage.

Taking a deep breath, he centers himself in the Force, and begins to think.

He has always fought more like Sidious: he tries to overwhelm opponents. His style is harsh and seeks to turn his opponents own attacks back on them. He defends and then immediately attacks, dominating the duel. He likes to control the momentum of the fight from start to finish.

But against Sidious, that may not be entirely possible. Maybe it doesn't need to be.

Sidious fights with the same momentum that Anakin himself utilizes. It follows that he'll have some of the same weaknesses.

Maybe, all he needs to do is figure out how others have beaten _him_.

He's been beaten enough times—especially when he was younger and only starting training—to know that he's not invincible. He'll never forget the time he sparred with Mace Windu back when he was still a padawan. Cin Drallig also comes to mind. Even Ferus Olin beat him once or twice, though he loathes admitting that.

Unfortunately, those incidents won't help him much. They are either too isolated or they aren't well-defined enough in his mind for him to remember them blow-by-blow. When he stops and thinks about it—though, he never actually stops moving—there are really only two people who might give him insight into how to beat someone like himself.

Obi-Wan is, naturally, one of them, simply because Anakin fought him so often. Day in and day out they sparred together—both in armed and weaponless combat—until they knew each other's strengths and weaknesses as well as they knew their own. He _knows_ exactly how Obi-Wan was able to defeat him: when he won during their sparring matches, he beat Anakin by wearing him down. He took and took and took and then, in the space of a moment, turned Anakin's own mistakes—often times the only mistake he'd make in the entire duel—back around on him to win. He waited for Anakin to make a mistake first, and then he capitalized on it... and he was entirely too good at using Anakin's own weaknesses to maneuver him into situations where he'd make a mistake.

Mustafar was a perfect example. Luckily for Anakin, Obi-Wan couldn't bring himself to capitalize on the mistake he pressed Anakin into making.

Dooku beat him because he left himself open. He was a fraction of a second too slow, and Dooku used his efficient, sharp style to make him pay. Because he didn't make wide sweeps with his blade, he was able to take the smallest opening and make it a duel-ending opportunity. More importantly, he used Anakin's _arrogance_. Anakin was sure he could win—was sure he was better than he really was.

It's a certainty that Anakin is beginning to suspect Sidious shares.

Unfortunately, he really might _be_ that good.

He won't focus on that. Talent or not, arrogance is still a flaw to be exploited. He would know. It's still not one of his better traits.

Slowly, Anakin backs up the stairs towards the chair where Sidious was previously sitting. He's got the high ground right now, but Sidious is being careful, working only to deflect his attacks—he's not counter-attacking at this level. Anakin isn't going to get anywhere with the way things are going, and he knows it.

Sidious knows how Anakin fights. He's watched him for years. He knows his style.

But what if he could... _alter_ his style, just slightly?

Taking another deep breath, he stops backing up the stairs and instead holds his ground. Sidious won't be able to truly attack him in a position like this—he'll have to defend the attacks coming from the person in the higher position. But what if he, as odd as it sounds, pulls back, and_ makes_ Sidious attack him? That is, he leaves him the options of stopping the fight or attacking. Will it draw him out? Make him more vulnerable? Or will he fall back briefly to regroup?

He tries it. At first, he thinks it's going to work, but then Sidious looks and him and sneers, laughing cruelly. "You can't win, Skywalker." He seems almost gleeful as he uses the Force to carry himself back and to the side, then up onto even ground out of Anakin's reach.

Fine. He'll try something else. "The feeling is entirely mutual."

"You've been hiding for five years," he continues, coming forward at Anakin again. Their blades meet in a sharp set of blows, flashing high then low, a feint to the right, then a strike to the left, but always blocked, deflected at the very last moment. "You've been practicing against _Kenobi_. You think he could prepare you to fight _me_?"

"And who have you been practicing against?" he asks through clenched teeth, blocking another series of attacks. "The clones?"

Sidious doesn't answer—he only thrusts his blade forward. This one half-penetrates Anakin's defenses, burning through his tunic and into the skin of his side as he ducks. It's a small cut, and an even smaller escape—a few more inches, and that would have been his heart.

"Too slow," Sidious cackles.

It _was_ close, but he won't be intimidated, even now. Instead, he smirks and, for the first time in a few minutes, goes on an offense of his own. "Too old."

Sidious takes every strike, knocking them harmlessly away. Anakin keeps coming, fast and heated, pushing him back, back, back...

...and then pulling back himself.

He fakes as though he's going for one final blow. Sidious's blade raises to meet it, expecting it to be another in the long line of vicious attacks that he's just delivered. But, instead of following through as expected, Anakin pulls back at the last minute, putting his blade entirely in his right hand, and pushing forward.

As intended, he catches Sidious in a saber lock in exactly the same fashion as Dooku did to Obi-Wan on Geonosis.

Only, unlike Obi-Wan, he lowers his blade a fraction of an inch, giving Sidious what looks like the opening Dooku—though it wasn't done is a saber-lock—gave _him_ on the _Invisible Hand_. He is _giving_ Sidious the opportunity to cut off his hand, just as he cut off both of Dooku's.

And Sidious, true to his over-confidence and arrogance, takes it, thinking it a mistake, because, in a duel, it would be folly for anyone to try what Anakin is about to.

He severs Anakin's hand at the wrist, just as Anakin, defying every order Obi-Wan ever gave him, _drops_ his lightsaber...

...and catches it in his real hand as his mechanical one thumps to the ground, effectively severed.

As Sidious smiles in glee at what he thinks is a victory, Anakin uses his good hand to shove his lightsaber up into Sidious's heart.

A heart for a hand. Not a bad trade.

He shouldn't enjoy the way that Sidious's eyes go wide for a brief second, filled with the understanding of what has just happened before he crashes to the ground. He lies there for a moment, eyes on the ceiling as a froth of blood forms at his lips. Then, slowly, as Anakin watches, something vanishes—_life_ vanishes. Like when a star burns out, there was immense power before, but now there is suddenly nothing. Where there was a star, there is now empty space; where there was life, there is now only an empty corpse. It will be a few moments before Sidious's eyes dull with the sickening sheen of death, but Anakin can almost see it already. As he continues to watch, Sidious's mouth flops open and his limbs give one quick twitch before going limp. He's dead. A lightsaber wound to the heart will do that—it's mercifully quick, and, as wrong as it is, Anakin wishes that he'd taken more time to make him suffer.

It's wrong, this desire for vengeance and pain. He knows it's not what a Jedi should be feeling, but at this point he very much doubts the Jedi want to claim him as their own anyway, so perhaps he shouldn't feel so guilty. Or, maybe he should. This joy in other's suffering—even if it _is_ Sidious—is still wrong, Jedi or not.

It's a path to the dark side.

Gazing down at Sidious, he knows with absolute certainty that never again does he want to walk that path.

"I won't let you win," he says slowly to Sidious's corpse. "I am Anakin Skywalker—not Darth Vader. That will never change."

Sidious is spread out before him on the floor, arms at his sides and legs twisted in an odd angle that was brought on by falling. In his chest there's a gaping hole which has begun to ooze blood—not even a lightsaber can cauterize the heart, and while the heart has stopped pumping, that by no means prevents it from releasing the blood that was in it.

Frankly, Anakin is somewhat surprised Sidious even _had_ a heart.

He's even more surprised that he managed to stab him and find out.

This victory, he realizes, as he turns away from Sidious and makes his way towards Ventress's body, is not entirely his own. The woman at his feet in front of him—she aided him. She brought him the lightsaber he used to kill Sidious; Dooku and Obi-Wan gave him the insight he needed to learn his own vulnerabilities, and thereby Sidious's; Padme, in dying, gave him the final push that he needed to turn from the dark; Luke, Leia, and Obi-Wan gave him the motivation to stay with the light; and so many others, in little ways, both good and bad, pushed him to this. Even in the physical fight, he was aided: he fought like—and _lost_ like—others, keeping Sidious from expecting the tactics he employed.

"Thank you," he says quietly as he comes to stand over Ventress, because in this moment, he has no other words. There is nothing witty or sarcastic that he can say: all he can express is his true gratitude.

It's odd how, in the end, one of his greatest enemies ended up aiding him. Her actions were admirable, and though she was never his favorite person, he would like for her to have a proper funeral.

Unfortunately, he may not even be able to manage that.

Just as he's about to reach down to pick up her body, he hears the sounds of footsteps pounding down the corridor outside. The Force stirs around him, indicating that it's not an attack, but something else, something just as important.

With a quick flick of his wrist--the one that still has a hand--he summons Ventress's lightsaber from where it's still lying beside Sidious's body. Every part of him alert, he then makes his way towards the door.

The moment that he peaks outside into the cooridor, he realizes that something significant has happened.

People are running hurridly, up and down the cooridors, some shouting out destinations. Many of those directions are to battle stations. There's panic on a few of their faces, cold dermination on most of the others, and then the emtionless helmets of the clones. No one stops for him as he rushes out into the hallway, and that is the greatest indication of the level of chaos. They know who he is, but they simply to do not care.

"What's happened?" he demands, grabbing a clone at random and shoving him up against the wall with his remaining hand and the aid of the Force.

The man struggles for a moment, but, seeming to realize that Anakin has no intention of letting go, immediately reevaluates his plan, taking into account that the fastest way to be released is to answer the question. "The ship is being attacked. It's a large force--a rebel force, bigger than we realized."

Which, of course, means Anakin's on a targeted ship in the middle of an offensive.

He roughly shoves the clone aside, having gotten the information he needed. Now all he has to do is get to a hanger, because he has a sneaking suspicion that the rebellion doesn't have orders to wait until he clears the premises. They've got the plans Organa delivered, and they're putting them to use, regardless of Anakin's whereabouts. They'd probably even be satisfied if he was obliterated along with the _Death Star_ and the emperor.

He needs to get off this ship. Now.

It bothers him that he won't be able to bring Ventress's body back for proper ceremony, but a body is only a body, and he'd like to think his life is a little more important. As he takes off running down the hallway, he spares a tiny, sarcastic inward laugh. Yoda probably wouldn't think so.

Yoda. He doesn't want to think about that hypocritical little green troll. Did he even have to confer with what's left of the high council before he launched an attack on a station with a Jedi still aboard? Probably not. More than likely, he was intending to use Anakin as a distraction--engage Sidious with the intention of keeping him too busy to notice the imminent attack on the _Death Star_. He has to wonder, did Obi-Wan know about this? Did he know they were going to attack with Anakin on board? Anakin somewhat doubts his former master was included in that discussion until much later, after it had already been decided. Even if he _was_ included, he would like to think that Obi-Wan wouldn't have voted to blast his former padawan into oblivion.

No, he decides, racing around a corner. Obi-Wan wouldn't have gone along with it. If he had, then he'd have realized he'd be stuck raising two twins for the next fifteen or so years. It's an amusing thought.

Quickly, Anakin sobers. The idea of Obi-Wan trying to guide both Luke and Leia through their teenage years all alone might be funny, but everything else about this situation is not. He's on a ship that is very probably about to be destroyed. He needs to get off it.

His feet slap hard against the floor as he runs, whipping around corners as he hurriedly sorts through his memory in an effort to recall the way--or at least what seems close to it. Right, right, left, down, and then finally--_finally_--the hanger bay.

He's not picky about what he uses to get out of here. He grabs the nearest x-wing, simply because it's _there_. A few quick adjustments, and he fires up the engines. Already, the Force is stirring around him, warning him with a certainty that nothing else could give him.

If he's not off this battle station in the very immediate future, he'll never go anywhere again.

"Go, go, _go_," he mutters to himself, gunning the engine and shooting forward towards the doors, just as he feels the station rock under him. Something has been hit. "Come _on_--!"  And, thankfully, the little fighter does: he shoots out of the station just as a breath of hot flame does the same. It singes his ship's sides, immolates the metal of the station just behind him, but _he's_ out, and that's enough.

He's alive.  He's_ alive_.


	26. Part 2: Chapter 13

**Disclaimer:** From the first letter to the last word, I don't earn money off of any of it. This is purely a stress reliever.

**Author's Note: There is an epilogue to follow.**

Nimloth4th: Thank you so much!

Anakin T Skywalker: Thank you! I had a lot of fun writing it.

Be3: Maybe you should take up fan poetry. :)

phantom-jedi1: It was not intentional to post it like that. The formatting should be fixed now. Sorry about that.

SpiritedEstel: I'm very much enjoying paternal Obi-Wan, too. The shot of him in ROTS with Luke just makes me melt every time.

Dawn of Time: Analyzing it took a lot of time and research, I'll admit. Overall, I'm pretty much pleased with how it turned out.

AngryPanda : I'm a little sad about killing off Ventress, too. I liked her character.

pronker: Haha, yes, Anakin can think! I'm rather inclined to question rather it's a strength of his :), but from what I can see in the EU and movies, he does seem to be able to strategize when the need presents itself—and he seems to be able to do it well. It just seems like, if given the choice, he'd much rather use his raw power and talent to get himself out any situations he's in. Oh, and the line about Sidious was one of my favorites, too. :)

ObiBettina7: Yes, I'm sure Obi-Wan would appreciate that.

SpiritedEstel: Haha, I'm so glad someone noticed that line! It was one of my absolute favorites. And, yes, I'm also rather inclined to believe that Anakin picked up the wittiness from Obi-Wan. :)

Hazelcloud: The only reason I like the way it happened in the movies was because I knew the back-story and knew that it meant Anakin finally fulfilled his destiny as the Chosen One. It did seem to be kind of an underwhelming way for someone as clever as Sidious to die, though.

**Feedback:** Yes, please.

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The _Death Star_ explodes in a stunning array of fire and shrapnel, flaming out into space and then disintegrating in the icy coldness of the black void. In the span of a few seconds, a well-placed proton torpedo launched into an exhaust shaft by a trained Jedi has destroyed something as formidable as the _Death Star_. Now, it's as if it never existed. There is nothing in the place where it was except some floating debris.   

From where he's standing by a computer consol, Obi-Wan can only hope that Anakin wasn't destroyed with it.   

"I miss Daddy, too, Ben," Leia says from beside him.   

Sometimes, Obi-Wan thinks she's too perceptive for her own good. Maybe she'll go into politics one day. She'd be frighteningly good. The thought alone makes him shudder.   

He should be able to sense Anakin, and that's what worries him. He'd know if he were dead—he'd have felt the severance of their bond—unless Anakin had closed him off... and he very well might have. It would have been the intelligent thing to do, considering how Sidious used their bond the first time.   

"Ben!" The noise comes from Luke this time, only, unlike Leia, there's a lightness to his voice. "Come play, Ben!" he begs, running across the room to where Obi-Wan is standing with Leia.   

Luke's enthusiasm is infectious, and moments later Leia seems to have caught it: both jump on him, taking a leg each, and latching on, giggling. He's not really in the mood for roughhousing, but neither of them can possibly understand the significance of what he just saw on the monitor, and it's really not fair to them to project his anxiety. If Anakin does come back, it would be just as well that they never had to worry.   

"You, Luke," he says, swinging Luke up into his arms and dangling him upside down, "have entirely too much energy."   

Whooping with delight, Luke grabs onto Obi-Wan's obi and tugs, putting up a fight as best as he's able. Leia, seeing an opportunity, begins to mercilessly tickle her brother. "AHH! BEN! Make her stop!" Luke screams, erupting in a fit of giggles as he takes a swing at his sister.   

Leia easily dodges. "Can't get me, Luke!" she teases, sticking her tongue out.   

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes. "That's not nice, Leia. And, though you're quite right in thinking that Luke can't reach you, _I_ can." And he does, shifting Luke to one arm before scooping up the other twin. Grinning, he indulges in a little liberal use of the Force to flip her over so that he's holding her upside down as well.    

"This is a curious way to teach your younglings the ways of the Force, Obi-Wan."   

Immedaiatly, Obi-Wan looks up from where he's holding the twins. "Bail."   

The man looks cleaner, at least. He's still unnaturally thin, and there's a haunted look in his eyes that Obi-Wan knows won't vanish for a good long time—if ever—but at least there's some color in his cheeks, and he's wearing clean clothing. It's an improvement.   

Bail flashes him a small smile. "In the flesh." He gives his body a quick, self-deprecating glance. "Or what's left of it, that is."   

Obi-Wan takes the opportunity the following awkward silence affords him to gently lower the twins back to a normal position. They seem to sense the solemnity of the situation, and take to clinging to Obi-Wan's legs as they assess the newcomer. They've been particularly clingy ever since Obi-Wan returned. He suspects it's because they fear being left again.   

"Luke, Leia, this is Bail Organa," Obi-Wan says, putting a hand on each of their heads as he introduces them. "He's an old friend of mine."   

"Hello," Leia mutters, regarding Bail speculatively from her place by Obi-Wan's leg. Her hands dig a bit more firmly into the fabric of his pants.   

Luke simply watches him with big eyes. "'Lo," he murmurs.   

"They're cute," Bail says slowly, with a small smile. "Luke looks like Anakin; Leia like Padme."   

Obi-Wan can't help but smile at that. Anyone who knows or knew their parents would see it—and Bail knew both. "The personalities are opposite. Luke's far more like his mother, and Leia like her father."   

Laughing softly, Bail looks away and shakes his head. "The last time I saw them, they were newborns."   

Yes, back when Anakin was still Darth Vader. Bail had been delivering Yoda's message. Obi-Wan remembers. He will never forget, even though he'd like to. "I'd rather not talk about this."   

"You mistake my intentions," Bail assures him, raising a placating hand. "I'm not here to dredge up old memories. I simply thought that you'd like to know that Anakin has made contact."   

Relief so powerful that his knees almost give out sweeps over Obi-Wan. Anakin is alive, then. Maybe not safe yet, but _alive_, and almost back. How did Anakin manage it? How did he defeat Palpatine? He's not sure it even matters. All that counts is that he _did_.   

It suddenly occurs to him that, in doing so, Anakin _did_ fulfill the prophecy.   

He also finds that he doesn't care, so long as Anakin comes home safely.   

That prophecy has been the bane of Anakin's existence ever since he was declared to be the "Chosen One" at the age of nine. His agemates often shunned him because of it; adults expected more from him; and Anakin himself was always left wondering exactly what it was that he would have to do to "bring balance". About the fifth time after Anakin asked him if he could just not be the Chosen One anymore, Obi-Wan found himself wishing that Qui-Gon had never told the boy about his destiny—because Obi-Wan had been sure that it _was_ his destiny. He simply wished that the destiny could have been accomplished when the time came, and without all the fanfare before. For Anakin's sake, Obi-Wan would have preferred to let things play out as they came. Anakin might have had an easier childhood if that had been the case.   

"How far away is he?"   

"He'll likely be here by 22:00 hours."   

A tug on his left pant leg shifts his attention back down to Luke. "Daddy's coming back?" he asks, a tiny smile flickering on his almost-elfin features—_Anakin's_ features as a child—as he looks up at Obi-Wan.    

"Yes."   

"Yay!" His smile splits into a grin, and he hugs tighter.   

"Not so tight, Luke," Obi-Wan protests, reaching down to untangle the boy from his leg. He's got a strong grip for such a little thing. "Until then, why don't you, your sister, and I go practice with your lightsabers. I'll even teach you a new maneuver that you can show your daddy when he gets here."   

Both the twins give happy cries of affirmative and, as he'd hoped, release his legs as they race off towards their quarters, which are only just down the hall. As they reach the exit to the room, Obi-Wan hears Leia tell her brother, "Don't _lose_ yours this time, stupid! Remember, that weapon is your _life_!"   

"Leia, we don't use words like that," he sternly calls after them. 

She offers him a contrite look and a mumbled, "Sorry, Ben," before streaking off after her brother, who Obi-Wan can hear laughing happily, probably pleased that his sister was caught. They can be such little imps sometimes—a trait they inherited from Anakin, he's sure. At least they're not swearing in Huttese. When Anakin had first become his padawan, it had taken Obi-Wan a few months just to learn what he was saying, let alone reprimand him for it.   

Once he's sure they're gone, he turns back to Bail, only to find the man failing to stifle a chuckle. "What?"   

"'That weapon is your life'?" Bail asks, his eyes alive with mirth. "That just smacks of you, Obi-Wan. You're rather adept with Skywalker children, you know that?"   

He can't hide his own chuckle. He's aware that the children sound like him sometimes, but he never quite notices it so much as when someone else points it out. "It's a means of survival."   

"Learn to handle them or go insane?"   

He hides his smile with his hand and arches an eyebrow. "More or less."   

"Ah, well, I wouldn't want to hold you up. You've got younglings to teach. I merely wanted to let you know that Anakin is almost back... and I also wanted to thank you."   

"I rather think we should be thanking _you_, Senator. The Emperor is dead, and democracy now has a chance to be restored, largely because of the information _you_ stole."   

"It's going to take more than the downfall of the Emperor and the _Death Star_ to fix what's been broken."    

Yes, it certainly will, and, no matter what, things won't be like they were before. Certain parts are going to have to change. Still, there is reason to hope.

"It can be done."   

As he pushes a stray piece of hair—hair that's longer and far more unkempt than Obi-Wan remembers it ever being—out of his face, Bail sighs. He looks tired, though it's probably just as much due to his physical deterioration as actual exhaustion. "It _will_ be done, Master Kenobi."   

It will be. Obi-Wan has no notion of how—not yet, anyway—but he's never been a man to back down from a challenge, and this is certainly the greatest one he's ever faced. The Force has always provided a way for him to overcome obstacles before. He will trust in it now.   

"Yes," he agrees, accompanying Bail to the door. "It will be."   

--------------------------   

The twins see him first.    

They are out on a grassy flat above a river, practicing Form I lightsaber combat moves with Obi-Wan. From the looks of it, he's even teaching them something new. Trust Obi-Wan to make the need for distraction into a teaching opportunity.   

Leia spots him just a few seconds ahead of Luke. As soon as she does, she drops her training lightsaber—a _real_ one, not wooden like the ones they'd had out of necessity on Tatooine—and sprints towards him, her dark eyes wide with excitement. "DADDY!"   

Force. His babies. His children. He's never been so happy to see anything.

Luke is right behind her, so close that when they reach him, she's only first by the space of a few seconds. The feeling of his children clinging to him, grabbing onto him when he sinks to his knees in front of them, is perfect beyond what he can describe. They're so real, so warm against him, and he holds them tightly with his one arm, thinking that, right now, he's the luckiest man in the galaxy.   

There are new bumps and bruises on them both, and Leia's hair is in two pigtails, fixed nicely in a way that Anakin assumes has to be Breha Organa's doing, as Obi-Wan isn't capable of something like that. Luke's face is smudged with dirt, and there's a new blister on his left hand, probably from using his lightsaber for an extended period of time. Leia has apparently lost a tooth in his absence. Both have grass stains on their clothing. They smell like spring and the outdoors. They are perfect. Absolutely perfect.   

These are his children, just as he remembers them. He almost wants to cry with relief.   

"I've missed you both so much," he whispers.

"Where did you go, Daddy?" Luke asks, running a small hand over his father's cheek, as if he's trying to reacquaint himself with the physical reality of his father being there. He's only been gone a short while, but for children who had never been without their father, Anakin doubts it seems that way.   

"It doesn't matter. I'm back now."

He's fairly certain he never wants to leave again. Right now, kneeling here in the open field, breathing the clean air with his children in his arms—he feels more at peace than he has in years. Maybe he can convince Obi-Wan that they should move here permanently, Jedi affairs be damned.

It's not like he really owes loyalty to an organization that just tried to blow him up.   

"_Most_ of you is back, at least," Obi-Wan says wryly from where he's standing a few feet away.   

Slowly, Anakin looks up, taking in the sight of the one person who has stood by him through everything. This, he imagines, is probably similar to what Luke and Leia felt when they saw him.

And what Obi-Wan is feeling is probably exactly what _Anakin_ felt when he saw Luke and Leia.

Obi-Wan is wearing a look of relief, though it's mingled with worry and, if Anakin's not mistaken, weariness. Obi-Wan probably hasn't slept since he left the _Death Star_. Even now, he still doesn't seem to have relaxed, and is staring pointedly at Anakin's missing prosthetic arm. The look could be interpreted as stern, but he knows Obi-Wan well enough to see the relief he's clearly feeling.    

"Oh, Anakin, what did you do?" he asks tiredly, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. There's such concern there—though almost expectance, as if he had anticipated Anakin would do something like this—and it's enough to make Anakin feel every loss and victory that he ever experienced unusually acutely, because, as odd as it seems, he suddenly understands just what he's put Obi-Wan through. If Luke and Leia ran off and did everything he's just tried, he'd be frantic with worry.

Obi-Wan doesn't get frantic. He holds it all inside and internalizes it, worrying himself weary in a way that few can see... and Anakin is aware that he's just made him worry quite a lot.

"What in the world did you _do_?" Obi-Wan repeats, and then simply catches Anakin when his former padawan surges to his feet and throws himself into his former master's embrace.

 Obi-Wan will never break down and tell him just how worried he was. He will never verbalize any of it if he doesn't have to... and Anakin won't make him. The tightness of his hold as he grips Anakin against him, one hand around his back and one resting lightly on his head where Anakin has tucked it against Obi-Wan's shoulder speaks loudly enough... and Anakin would rather have this than words.   

"I missed you, too," Anakin whispers, answering what Obi-Wan didn't say. He doesn't need to say anything more—he saying all he needs to as he leans heavily into him, holding on tightly to the one person in which he knows he can still find safety, though never at the expense of truth. "And I'm home."   

"Yes," Obi-Wan murmurs, letting Anakin hold onto him, and maybe even holding back. No, _for sure_ holding back. "I know."

And, right now, he _does_. He's lost everything to get here, but wherever he's ended up, he knows it's right. There are things he'll always miss, but he _belongs_ here, with Obi-Wan and the twins, and with everything that's left... and that's new.

From here, redemption is clear. It's not easy, and it's not simple, but it is obtainable.

The horizon is clear.

A new day is rising.


	27. Epilogue

**Disclaimer:** From the first letter to the last word, I don't earn money off of any of it. This is purely a stress reliever.

**Author's Note: There is an epilogue to follow.**

Anakin T Skywalker: Thank you!

Dawn of Time: Haha, I'm so glad someone caught the use of military time! I'm oddly pleased about that!

pronker: Thanks for reading it! :)

ObiBettina7: No, I think this is the end of this story. I'm pretty satisfied with how it turned out, and I don't want to kill a good thing. I'd have to really get an interesting sort of inspiration to add anything else to this. I've got some other ones in the works, though.

InkSpellWeaver: It is the end, but here's the epilogue!

Mo Angel: I hope the epilogue can clear up some of that.

Lightside: Thank you SO much! :D

jmeec316: I'm glad you liked that part. That bit was something I really wanted to emphasize, since I thought it finally made Anakin understand exactly how Obi-Wan felt and maybe why he did some of the things that he did.

**Feedback:** Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to review this story. I appreciate it SO much!

-----------------------

[Epilogue]

"Ben!"

With a sigh born of frustration that he doesn't really feel—that is really more for the benefit of his young charge—Obi-Wan turns around. Apparently, he doesn't do so quickly enough to satisfy—the boy is already speaking again.

"Ben—"

"Patience, Luke. A Jedi is patient."

Luke heaves a sigh that is far more real than Obi-Wan's was. "Sorry. I know, but—"

Yes, he does know. He has all the knowledge in his head, but putting it into practice is far more difficult. Obi-Wan can't help the small smile that finally makes its way across his lips as he thinks about that. "I know you're eager to see your sister."

At ten, Leia is a bit young for the internship program in the chancellor's office on Coruscant, but even with her lack of years, she is still one of the finest interns that they have. Though, Obi-Wan is hardly surprised when she bests children quite a bit older than she; with Anakin's personality and Padme's patience for politics, she's an entity to be reckoned with.

The internship, however, has taken her away from home for a few months, leaving Luke alone. Obi-Wan will never cease to be amazed at how close the twins are, occasional spats aside.

"It's all right, Luke," he offers kindly, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder as he casts a glance at the other figure walking alongside him. "I assure you, you're a far more patient padawan than your father ever was."

Beside them, Anakin crosses his arms and grumbles, though Obi-Wan suspects the gesture is probably far more for Luke's benefit than it is out of true annoyance. "I was _patient—_"

"You were many things, Anakin, but you were _never_ patient. You _still_ don't possess that particular gift."

Anakin is reduced to the practice of more muttering. Luke sees that and laughs, strategically turning the noise into a cough when his father shoots him a glare. "Ben's kind of right, Dad," he admits with a shrugged apology.

"I need to find Leia," Anakin mutters, rolling his eyes. "She'll side with me."

"Not likely, Dad. She always sides with Ben."

More muttering, and Obi-Wan doesn't even bother to try and stifle his laugh.

Frowning, though with a glimmer of affection and teasing in his eyes, Anakin counters, "I don't know why _you're _laughing—Leia is capable of manipulating you _completely_."

To some degree, that's probably actually true, and Obi-Wan isn't going to deny that to himself. To him, Leia is always going to be the tiny little girl who used to fall asleep when he held her or who demanded his attention in a way that no one else—not even Luke, though he cares for him every bit as much—ever did. They have, and probably always will have, a very special bond. She is, as Anakin like's to say, his little girl, no matter how old she gets.

Of course, Anakin can't talk, either. Actually, Obi-Wan suspects that _either_ of the twins could get him to do just about anything.

"I'm sorry, Anakin, but why did Luke miss his sparring session last week?" he asks with feigned politeness and a smile that he usually reserves for politicians. That is to say, it's a smile that is _completely_ fake.

And Anakin knows it.

Scowling, he shoots Obi-Wan another glare. "It was just _one_ podrace—"

Obi-Wan nods mockingly. "Hmm, yes."

Like he and Leia, Luke and Anakin are very close. That's not to exclude Leia—Anakin loves her very much, but Obi-Wan has discovered that leaving Anakin and his daughter with each other for too long is similar to attempting to force magnets of the same polarity together. It simply doesn't work. Their personalities are too similar, and they clash easily.

Luke has a gentler, less confrontational personality. That's not to say that he doesn't have his moments—he is much like his mother in that respect. He has strengths in spades, and when the need arises, he's unyielding and forceful, but overall he is less abrasive than either Anakin or Leia. His personality is less likely to clash with that of his father's.

"You're making fun of me."

Beside Obi-Wan, Luke snickers. "Yes, I do believe that I am," Obi-Wan says, patting Anakin lightly on the back. "And I'm doing a rather good job of it, too."

"Some days, I think you should go live with Yoda."

"Ah, but then who would train your son?"

Anakin certainly could, and he'd likely do a very good job of it, Obi-Wan is sure. It's _Anakin_ that isn't entirely secure in that knowledge. Even though it's been years since his foray into darkness and subsequent return to the light, he still doesn't trust himself to train someone else. As he put it, _there was something in me that made me vulnerable to turning, Obi-Wan—what if I were to pass that on to Luke?_

And so, though, Obi-Wan disagrees with Anakin's assessment of himself, he is the one to train Luke.

Really, he's getting too old for this sort of thing.

"Besides that, Dad," someone says from out of their line of sight, "who else would you spar with? No one else but Yoda can beat you anymore."

"Leia!" Luke exclaims excitedly, spinning around to face his sister before launching himself at her in a fierce hug. Leia meets him with open arms, grinning widely. Clearly, the time apart has been hard on them both.

"I'm not sure that's entirely true," Anakin replies as he reaches out to hug his daughter once Luke releases her.

It's not _that_ far from the truth—there aren't many Jedi left who can best Anakin in a duel—but neither is it entirely true. A fairer assessment would be that there really isn't anyone Anakin doesn't have at least a fifty/fifty chance of beating.

He has become, Obi-Wan will admit, _that_ good.

"Hi, Ben!" Leia greets him once she breaks away from Anakin and pushes herself into the circle of Obi-Wan's arms. "I missed you."

He squeezes lightly, realizing how much he's missed having her around. It's good to have her back. "I'm glad you're back, Leia. It's been far too quiet without you."

"Yes, well, she's been a joy to have around the offices," a masculine voice announces from behind them.

Obi-Wan glances back and then smiles when he catches sight of Bail Organa. Where years before there was a wasted man, Bail has now regained his previous physique: he looks healthy, if a little tired. Though, that's to be expected.

The position of Supreme Chancellor is stressful, after all.

Leia smiles and lets go of Obi-Wan. "Thank you, Chancellor."

"You're very welcome." He gives a quick bow to both Obi-Wan and Anakin. "And how are things at the Jedi Temple?"

"Oh, as usual," Obi-Wan answers. Usual, of course, being entirely unusual to most people. Though, a little more normal than it used to be, at least.

Things haven't changed overnight. The Jedi Code is still essentially the same, but ever so slowly, things have begun to ease up. Attachment is still not a sanctioned doctrine, but as long as it doesn't interfere with a Jedi's ability or judgment, the council is content to pretend that it doesn't exist.

It's not an ideal situation, and Obi-Wan would prefer that it was dealt with differently, but it is at least _something_, and in an order as steeped in tradition as that of the Jedi's, progress will have to come in small increments.

At the very least, the children are allowed to stay with Anakin, who chose an apartment right next to Obi-Wan's in the Jedi Temple. As a result, more often than not, Obi-Wan _still_ has to deal with his former padawan throwing himself down in a chair at his kitchen table, asking what's for dinner… and if it's not Anakin, it's Luke and Leia.

He's not complaining, of course. His life would be far too quiet otherwise.

"We got a new group of younglings," Anakin says conversationally. There's still some measure of hesitancy to his voice as he speaks to Bail. There always is, and truthfully that's understandable. Anakin will never cease to feel guilty in the face of those that he wronged.

That, Obi-Wan is rather inclined to think, is his greatest punishment.

In addition, he will never be promoted to the rank of Jedi Master nor will he ever serve on the Council, despite his considerable skills. That was a decision that what was left of the Jedi Council, along with their newly elected members—all of whom were Jedi who survived the purges—made. Anakin's crimes _were_ numerous, and the fact that he was re-instated into the Order at all was remarkable. Much was forgiven, but it was the collective opinion of the Council that a promotion would dishonor those who had died at his hand.

As the council saw it, there is forgiveness, and then there is accountability.

They will not neglect one at the expense of the other.

"Promising?" Bail asks in regards to Anakin's statement about younglings. There's still a hint of distrust in his eyes, but it's keep well in check. Bail is trying, Obi-Wan knows, but what Anakin did to him is not an easy thing to forgive.

"Yes."

A tiny smile plays at Bail's lips. "Your own youngling is equally promising," he replies, his gaze flickering over towards Leia. There's warmth there, Obi-Wan notes. He seems genuinely fond of her.

There's no mistaking the pride in Anakin's eyes. It's the look of any parent whose child has accomplished something good. "Thank you." Still, he keeps his emotions in check—he's always tries so hard at that now whenever anyone outside of his family is present. "We tend to think she is, too," he adds, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and giving her an affectionate one-armed hug.

"Aww, Daddy," she mutters, pushing him off.

Still, there's no hiding her small, pleased smile.

"Well, if you're ready then, Obi-Wan," Anakin says, still grinning at his daughter, "I think we should head back to the Temple."

"You go—I'll see you later tonight, as I'm assuming for Leia's first night back you're not going to want to eat in the cafeteria?" Anakin's less-than-sheepish grin is answer enough. He appears as though he's _trying_ to look contrite for his lack of culinary skills and his subsequent tendency to take advantage of Obi-Wan's competence in the area, but is failing miserably in the endeavor. "I rather thought so. However, I've been meaning to talk to Bail for a few days. Chancellor? If you wouldn't mind?"

Bail gives him a small nod. "Certainly."

Anakin doesn't question. More often than not, conversations like these are Jedi Council business, which Anakin will never be a part of. Obi-Wan suspects that its easier for him not to ask—and to trust that Obi-Wan will tell him if it's anything else—than it is for him to try to hide how out of place he feels if he's informed that it's indeed something he can't be a part of.

"All right, Master," he says, gesturing for Luke and Leia to follow him.

"Ben, have I got a sparring session tomorrow morning?" Luke asks as he heads after his father.

Obi-Wan's hair is already beginning to streak gray, and by the time Luke is knighted, Obi-Wan suspects it will be entirely silver. At least Luke bothered to _ask_ this time, rather than worry Obi-Wan by not showing up at all. "Yes, Luke. What have I told you about writing these things down?" Force, but that boy can never remember a schedule. In that respect, he is not like Padme, but rather very, _very_ like his father.

"Sorry, Ben!" he calls over his shoulder before running after his father.

And, so, Obi-Wan is left alone with one chuckling Bail Organa. "I'm sorry, Master Kenobi," he apologizes, stifling his chuckle with his hand.

"Sometimes," Obi-Wan admits, cracking a smile, "he is _entirely_ too like his father."

Bail stops trying to hide his good humor. "And you love that. Retirement wouldn't suit you—it would be far too boring. " Still smiling, he finally takes a deep breath; it is, Obi-Wan knows, a signal that he's ready to talk about whatever else it is they need to discuss. "Now, I believe you had something you wanted to speak with me about?"

"Yes." It's not what Bail thinks, nor is it what Anakin thought it was, either. Today Obi-Wan is not on sanctioned council business, and even if this matter does indirectly affect the Jedi Order, it's not an issue that is vital to its well-being.

It does, however, directly affect Bail Organa.

"It concerns one of the new younglings at the Jedi Temple."

Crossing his arms, Bail nods. "How so?"

"One of the new younglings was found in the Outer Rim; an earthquake destroyed his village, and we found him and his infant sister in the destroyed remains of his home. The father was killed previously. His mother was killed when the roof fell—the children somehow managed to avoid being crushed, largely, I believe, due to the Force-sensitivity of the oldest."

"The baby isn't Force-sensitive?" Bail asks.

Obi-Wan shakes his head. "No, which, as I assume you can see, presents something of a problem. A child that isn't sensitive to the Force cannot be raised in the Jedi Temple. We can give the child to an orphanage, but I thought that, if it was in my power, it might be better to place her in a home where she could occasionally see her brother." Before the Jedi Purges, this would have been unthinkable. Obi-Wan knows that Yoda still will not agree, but he's gotten a little more used to the idea that maybe Yoda doesn't need to have a hand in everything. He is old and wise, yes, but that doesn't make him the Force itself. He is not, as the fall of the Jedi showed, _always_ right.

"You have another proposal?" Bail asks, looking interested.

"Yes."

"And?"

"And I thought that, perhaps, _you_ might want the child."

Surprise registers on Bail's face—a sharp furrowing of his eyebrows, and a flash of shock in his eyes. Still, there's no open rejection, and maybe, under the surprise, a layer of well-controlled curiosity.

Good. That control is good. Obi-Wan wouldn't respect him if he accepted an offer like this without some reserve. Children—and the duties that come with raising them—are not something to be taken lightly.

Obi-Wan would know.

He agreed to his master's dying wish, and twenty-three years later, he's _still_ got that child—who is decidedly not a child anymore—taking up a good deal of time in his life… not that he's complaining. Said child, he's also found, while he was a lot of work, was also rather rewarding.

"You want _me_ to raise this child?"

"Well, your wife, too, of course," he replies with a good-natured quirk of his lips.

"I—Obi-Wan, I don't know what to say…"

"I hope you say yes."

"I—Breha would be pleased, no doubt, but it's a huge responsibility, and—"

"Breha is very good with children. I saw her with Luke and Leia. Truthfully, her way with children was a deciding factor in my decision to ask you if you would take this child."

Swallowing hard, Bail falls silent. The concentration—deep thought—is entirely evident in his face, in the lines of his forehead as they wrinkle when he draws his brows together, and in the tiny narrowing of his eyes. He wants to agree to the proposition that has just been laid before him. Obi-Wan can see that clearly. He wants it, but like the sensible man he is, he will consider every angle first.

But, ultimately, Obi-Wan believes he knows what his decision will be.

After what must be nearly a minutes, Bail shatters the silence with a shaky laugh. "Force, Master Kenobi!" he exclaims, running a hand over his face and through his hair. "How can you just drop this on me?"

The same way Qui-Gon dropped Anakin on him. He has half a mind to point out that at least he's not planning to make it his dying wish. Instead, he merely crosses his arms over his chest and chuckles. "Account it to what I believe to be the will of the Force," he says with a wry smile.

"The Force," he repeats, shaking his head slowly, laughing. Finally, throwing his hands up in the air, he says, "And who am I to deny that?"

"Then you'll take the child?"

"Yes." He looks surprised to even be saying the words. "Yes, I'll take the child."

And, just like that, a large smile blooms over his face. The decision made, his entire demeanor has changed. Where there was uncertainty, there is now excitement and joy, which is exactly what Obi-Wan was hoping for. "What does she look like?" he asks, still laughing quietly to himself as if he can't quite believe what he's just agreed to. "This little girl."

"She's beautiful," Obi-Wan admits. "A tiny head full of dark hair, and these brown eyes that make you believe she knows exactly what you're saying to her, even if you're only talking nonsense."

He arches an eyebrow. "A bit like how Leia was as a baby?"

He shrugs, unable to totally suppress a smile. "A bit."

He can't find it in himself to be offended at Bail's following chuckle. "That's why you've worked so hard to find her a good home, isn't it? She reminds you of your little girl."

"Leia isn't my daughter. She is Anakin's—"

Bail waves him off, rolling his eyes. "So I've heard it said. Oddly, you seem to be the only one saying it."

Truthfully, he has very little to give in reply to that. Even Anakin enthusiastically declares that Obi-Wan has as much right to parental claims as he does. Of course, that's typically when the situation calls for some sort of discipline that Anakin would rather not give… "If you say so."

"I do. And I can truthfully say that I hope this little girl—my _daughter_," he says slowly, trying the word out on his tongue for the first time, "turns out as well as Leia. Of course, if she's anything like Leia, she'll probably end up leading the Senate. That girl of yours is certainly fiery," he says with a grin. "If the Empire was still intact, she likely would have been the one leading the rebel alliance by the time she was of age!"

Yes. Probably. That would be like Leia.

"Well, _your_ child might not have cause to lead a rebel alliance," Obi-Wan replies with an easy shrug, "but someday she may be instrumental in leading the _Republic_. With you guiding her, I'm sure she'll someday be very active in the preservation of democracy."

"I think, Master Kenobi, that any chance she gets to do that, she owes quite largely to your efforts. I think this _galaxy_ owes quite a lot to your efforts."

"Don't flatter me, Bail. I played a large part in the downfall of the Republic in the first place."

"That's arguable. What is _not_ arguable is the roll you played in building it back up again… you and Anakin _both_."

Surprised, Obi-Wan jerks his gaze straight up to meet Bail's. That's not what he expected. Compliments paid to Anakin are few and far between, and when they come, he's inclined to feel thankful on his former padawan's behalf.

Clearly sensing his surprise, Bail holds his gaze, as calm and serious as any Jedi master. "In the end, Obi-Wan," he begins slowly, every word deliberate and clearly chosen, "he did what was right, and, eventually, he'll be remembered for that. Maybe not now, and maybe not for a long time to come, but someday it won't be about what he did wrong anymore—it will be about the end result. It will be about what he eventually did _right_. What we _all_ did right." His dark eyes glitter with humor as he adds, "After all, the winners get to write history… and in this case, the yesterday's records are going to be penned by that of a free society."

"A Republic."

"Yes," Bail agrees, tipping his head back slightly in pride. "A Republic."

Not perfect, still fallible, and sporting problems, but a _Republic_. Free. It is an opportunity to start over, for him, for Anakin, for Bail, for _everyone_. And, maybe, as Bail says, they'll be remembered for that—for what they did _right_.

In the end, they'll be remembered for the new chance they created.

It is a new day, indeed.


End file.
